BCSB  LIBRARY 
53  GST 


CHAIRING  TOM  IN  THE  QUADRANGLE. 


Tom  Brown 
At  Rugby 


h 

CALDWELL 
COMPANY 
A1EV  YORK 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  I'm  the  poet  of  White  Horse  Vale,  sir, 
With  liberal  notions  under  my  cap." 

— Ballad. 

THE  Browns  have  become  illustrious  by  the  pen  of 
Thackeray  and  the  pencil  of  Doyle  within  the  memory 
of  the  young  gentlemen  who  are  now  matriculating 
at  the  universities.  Notwithstanding  the  well-merited 
but  late  fame  which  has  now  fallen  upon  them,  any 
one  at  all  acquainted  with  the  family  must  feel  that 
much  has  yet  to  be  written  and  said  before  the  British 
nation  will  be  properly  sensible  of  how  much  of  its 
greatness  it  owes  to  the  Browns.  For  centuries,  in 
their  quiet,  dogged,  homespun  way  they  have  been 
subduing  the  earth  in  most  English  counties,  and  leav- 
ing their  mark  in  American  forests  and  Australian  up- 
lands. Wherever  the  fleets  and  armies  of  England 
have  won  renown,  there  stalwart  sons  of  the  Browns 
have  done  yeomen's  work.  With  the  yew  bow  and 
cloth-yard  shaft  at  Cressy  and  Agincourt — with  the 
brown  bill  and  pike  under  the  brave  Lord  Willoughby, 
with  culverin  and  demi-culverin  against  Spaniards  and 
Dutchmen — with  hand-grenade  and  saber,  and  musket 
and  bayonet,  under  Rodney  and  St.  Vincent,  Wolfe 
and  Moore,  Nelson  and  Wellington,  they  have  carried 
their  lives  in  their  hands:  getting  hard  knocks  and 


2  TOM  BROWN  S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

hard  work  in  plenty,  which  was  on  the  whole  what 
they  looked  for,  and  the  best  thing  for  them ;  and  lit- 
tle praise  or  pudding,  which  indeed  they  and  most  of 
us  are  better  without.  Talbots  and  Stanleys,  St. 
Maurs,  and  such-like  folk,  have  led  armies,  and  made 
laws  time  out  of  mind ;  but  those  noble  families  would 
be  somewhat  astounded — if  the  accounts  ever  came  to 
be  fairly  taken — to  find  how  small  their  work  for 
England  has  been  by  the  side  of  that  of  the 
Browns. 

These  latter,  indeed,  have  until  the  present  genera- 
tion rarely  been  sung  by  poet,  or  chronicled  by  sage. 
They  have  wanted  their  "  sacer  vates"  having  been 
too  solid  to  rise  to  the  top  by  themselves,  and  not 
having  been  largely  gifted  with  the  talent  of  catching 
hold  of,  and  holding  on  tight  to,  whatever  good  things 
happened  to  be  going — the  foundation  of  the  fortunes 
of  so  many  noble  families.  But  the  world  goes  on  its 
way,  and  the  wheel  turns  and  the  wrongs  of  the  Browns 
like  other  wrongs,  seem  in  a  fair  way  to  get  righted. 
And  this  present  writer  having  for  many  years  of  his 
life  been  a  devout  Brown-worshiper,  and  moreover 
having  the  honor  of  being  nearly  connected  with  an 
eminently  respectable  branch  of  the  great  Brown  family 
is  anxious,  so  far  as  in  him  lies,  to  help  the  wheel  over 
and  throw  his  stone  on  to  the  pile. 

However,  gentle  reader,  or  simple  reader,  whichever 
you  may  be,  lest  you  should  be  led  to  waste  your 
precious  time  upon  these  pages,  I  make  so  bold  as  at 
once  to  tell  you  the  sort  of  folk  you'll  have  to  meet 
and  put  up  with,  if  you  and  I  are  to  jog  on  comfortably 
together.  You  shall  hear  at  once  what  sort  of  folk  the 
Browns  are,  at  least  my  branch  of  them  ;  and  then  if 
you  don't  like  the  sort,  why,  cut  the  concern  at  once, 


TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL   DAYS.  3 

and  let  you  and  I  cry  quits  before  either  of  us  can 
grumble  at  the  other. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Browns  are  a  fighting  family. 
One  may  question  their  wisdom,  or  wit,  or  beauty,  but 
about  their  fight  there  can  be  no  question.  Wherever 
hard  knocks  of  any  kind,  visible  or  invisible,  are  going 
there  the  Brown  who  is  nearest  must  shove  in  his  car- 
case. And  these  carcases  for  the  most  part  answer 
very  well  to  the  characteristic  propensity  ;  they  are  a 
square-headed  and  snake-necked  generation,  broad  in 
the  shoulder,  deep  in  the  chest  and  thin  in  the  flank, 
carrying  no  lumber.  Then  for  clanship,  they  are  as 
bad  as  Highlanders ;  it  is  amazing  the  belief  they  have 
in  one  another.  With  them  there  is  nothing  like  the 
Browns,  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation.  "Blood 
is  thicker  than  water,"  is  one  of  their  pet  sayings. 
They  can't  be  happy  unless  they  are  always  meeting 
one  another.  Never  were  such  people  for  family 
gatherings,  which,  were  you  a  stranger,  or  sensitive, 
you  might  think  had  better  not  have  been  gathered 
together.  For  during  the  whole  time  of  their  being 
together  they  luxuriate  in  telling  one  another  their 
minds  on  whatever  subject  turns  up;  and  their  minds 
are  wonderfully  antagonistic,  and  all  their  opinions  are 
downright  beliefs.  Till  you've  been  among  them  some 
time  and  understand  them,  you  can't  think  but  that  they 
are  quarreling.  Not  a  bit  of  it;  they  love  and  respect 
one  another  ten  times  the  more  after  a  good  set  family 
arguing  bout,  and  go  back,  one  to  his  curacy,  another 
to  his  chambers,  and  another  to  his  regiment,  freshened 
for  work,  and  more  than  ever  convinced  that  the  Browns 
are  the  height  of  company. 

This  family  training  too,  combined  with  their  turn 
for  combativeness,  makes  them  eminently  quixotic., 


4  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

They  can't  let  anything  alone  Avhich  they  think  going 
wrong.  They  must  speak  their  mind  about  it,  annoying 
all  easy-going  folk  ;  and  spend  their  time  and  money 
in  having  a  tinker  at  it,  however  hopeless  the  job.  It 
is  an  impossibility  to  a  Brown  to  leave  the  most  dis- 
reputable lame  dog  on  the  other  side  of  a  stile.  Most 
other  folk  get  tired  of  such  work.  The  old  Browns, 
with  red  faces,  white  whiskers,  and  bald  heads,  go  on 
believing  and  fighting  to  a  green  old  age.  They  have 
always  a  crotchet  going,  till  the  old  man  with  the 
scythe  reaps  and  garners  them  away  for  troublesome 
old  boys  as  they  are. 

And  the  most  provoking  thing  is,  that  no  failures 
knock  them  up  or  make  them  hold  their  hands,  or 
think  you,  or  me,  or  other  sane  people  in  the  right. 
Failures  slide  off  them  like  July  rain  off  a  duck's  back 
feathers.  Jem  and  his  whole  family  turn  out  bad,  and 
cheat  them  one  week,  and  the  next  they  are  doing  the 
same  thing  for  Jack  ;  and  when  he  goes  to  the  tread- 
mill, and  his  wife  and  children  to  the  workhouse,  they 
will  be  on  the  lookout  for  Bill  to  take  his  place. 

However,  it  is  time  for  us  to  get  from  the  general  to 
the  particular  ;  so,  leaving  the  great  army  of  Browns, 
who  are  scattered  over  the  whole  empire  on  which  the 
sun  never  sets,  and  whose  general  diffusion  I  take  to  be 
the  chief  cause  of  that  empire's  stability,  let  us  at  once 
fix  our  attention  upon  the  small  nest  of  Browns  in 
which  our  hero  was  hatched,  and  which  dwelt  in  that 
portion  of  the  royal  county  of  Berks  which  is  called 
the  Yale  of  White  Horse. 

Most  of  you  have  probably  traveled  down  the  Great 
Western  Railway  as  far  as  Swindon.  Those  of  you 
who  did  so  with  their  eyes  open,  have  been  aware,  soon 
after  leaving  the  Didcot  station,  of  a  fine  range  of  chalk 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  5 

hills  running  parallel  with  the  rail  way  on  the  left-hand 
side  as  you  go  down,  and  distant  some  two  or  three 
miles,  more  or  less,  from  the  line.  The  highest  point 
in  the  range  is  the  White  Horse  Hill,  which  you  come 
in  front  of  just  before  you  stop  at  the  Shrivenham  sta- 
tion. If  you  love  English  scenery,  and  have  a  few  hours 
to  spare,  you  can't  do  better,  the  next  time  you  pass, 
than  stop  at  the  Farringdon-road  or  Shrivenham  sta- 
tion, and  make  your  way  to  that  highest  point.  And 
those  who  care  for  the  vague  old  stories  that  haunt 
country  sides,  all  about  England,  will  not,  if  they  are 
wise,  be  content  with  only  a  few  hours'  stay,  for 
glorious  as  the  view  is  the  neighborhood  is  yet  more 
interesting  for  its  relics  of  by  gone  times.  I  only  know 
two  English  neighborhoods  thoroughly,  and  in  each, 
within  a  circle  of  five  miles,  there  is  enough  of  interest 
and  beauty  to  last  any  reasonable  man  his  life.  I  be- 
lieve this  to  be  the  case  almost  throughout  the  coun- 
try ;  but  each  has  a  special  attraction,  and  none  can  be 
richer  than  the  one  I  am  speaking  of,  and  going  to 
introduce  you  to  very  particularly  ;  for  on  this  subject 
I  must  be  prosy  ;  so  those  that  don't  care  for  England 
in  detail  may  skip  the  chapter. 

O  young  England  !  young  England!  You  who  are 
born  into  these  racing  railroad  times,  when  there's 
a  Great  Exhibition  or  some  monster  sight,  every 
year ;  and  you  can  get  over  a  couple  of  thousand  miles 
of  ground  for  three  pound  ten,  in  a  five  weeks'  holiday  ; 
why  don't  you  know  more  of  your  own  birthplaces? 
You're  all  in  the  ends  of  the  earth,  it  seems  to  me,  as 
soon  as  you  get  your  necks  out  of  the  educational  col- 
lar, for  midsummer  holidays,  long  vacations,  or  what 
not.  Going  round  Ireland,  with  a  return  ticket,  in  a 
fortnight ;  dropping  your  copies  of  Tennyson  on  the 


C  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  CAYS. 

tops  of  Swiss  mountains  ;  or  pulling  down  the  Danube 
in  Oxford  racing-boats.  And  when  you  get  home  for 
a  quiet  fortnight,  you  turn  the  steam  off,  and  lie  on 
your  backs  in  the  paternal  garden,  surrounded  by  the 
last  batch  of  books  from  Mudie's  library,  and  half 
bored  to  death.  Well,  well !  I  know  it  has  its  good 
side.  You  all  patter  French  more  or  less,  and  perhaps 
German ;  you  have  seen  men  and  cities,  no  doubt,  and 
have  your  opinions,  such  as  they  are,  about  schools  of 
painting,  high  art,  and  all  that;  have  seen  the  pictures 
at  Dresden  and  the  Louvre,  and  know  the  taste  of  sauer- 
kraut. All  I  say  is,  you  don't  know  your  own  lanes 
and  woods  and  fields.  Though  you  may  be  chock-full 
of  science,  not  one  in  twenty  of  you  knows  where  to 
find  the  wood-sorrel,  or  bee-orchis  which  grows  in  the 
next  wood  or  on  the  down  three  miles  off,  or  what  the 
bog -bean  and  wood-sage  are  good  for.  And  as  for  the 
country  legends,  the  stories  of  the  old  gable-ended 
farm-houses,  the  place  where  the  last  skirmish  was 
fought  in  the  civil  wars,  where  the  parish  butts  stood, 
where  the  last  highwaymen  turned  to  bay,  where  the 
last  ghost  was  laid  by  the  parson,  they're  gone  out  of 
date  altogether. 

Now,  in  my  time,  when  we  got  home  by  the  old 
coach,  which  put  us  down  at  the  cross-roads  with  our 
boxes,  the  first  day  of  the  holidays,  and  had  been 
driven  off  by  the  family  coachman,  singing  "  Dulce 
Domum"  at  the  top  of  our  voices,  there  we  were,  fix- 
tures, till  black  Monday  came  round.  We  had  to  cut 
out  our  own  amusements  within  a  walk  or  ride  of 
home.  And  so  we  got  to  know  all  the  country-folk, 
and  their  ways  and  songs  and  stories  by  heart ;  and 
went  over  the  fields,  and  woods,  and  hills,  again  and 
again,  till  we  made  friends  of  them  all.  We  were  Berk- 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  7 

shire,  or  Gloucestershire,  or  Yorkshire  boys,  and  you're 
young  cosmopolites,  belonging  to  all  counties  and  no 
countries.  No  doubt  it's  all  right — I  dare  say  it  is. 
This  is  the  day  of  large  views  and  glorious  humanity, 
and  all  that;  but  I  wish  backsword  play  hadn't  gone 
out  in  the  Yale  of  White  Horse,  and  that  that  con- 
founded Great  Western  hadn't  carried  away  Alfred's 
Hill  to  make  an  embankment. 

But  to  return  to  the  said  Yale  of  'White  Horse,  the 
country  in  which  the  first  scenes  of  this  true  and  inter- 
esting story  are  laid.  As  I  said,  the  Great  Western 
now  runs  right  through  it,  and  it  is  a  land  of  large  rich 
pastures,  bounded  by  fox-fences,  and  covered  with  fine 
hedgerow  timber,  with  here  and  there  a  nice  little 
gorse  or  spinney,  where  abideth  poor  Charley,  having 
no  other  cover  to  which  to  betake  himself  for  miles 
and  miles,  when  pushed  out  some  fine  November  morn- 
ing by  the  Old  Berkshire.  Those  who  have  been 
there,  and  well  mounted,  only  know  how  he  and  the 
stanch  little  pack  who  dash  after  him — heads  high  and 
sterns  low  with  a  breast-high  scent — can  consume  the 
ground  at  such  times.  There  being  little  plow-land 
and  few  woods,  the  vale  is  only  an  average  sporting 
country,  except  for  hunting.  The  villages  are  strag- 
gling, queer,  old  fashioned  places,  the  houses  being 
dropped  down  without  the  least  regularity,  in  nooks 
and  out-of-the-way  corners  by  the  sides  of  shadowy 
lanes  and  footpaths,  each  with  its  patch  of  garden. 
They  are  built  chiefly  of  good  gray  stone,  and  thatched  ; 
though  I  see  that  within  the  last  year  or  two  the  red- 
brick cottages  are  multiplying,  for  the  vale  is  begin- 
ning to  manufacture  largely  both  brick  and  tiles. 
There  are  lots  of  waste  ground  by  the  side  of  the  roads 
jn  every  village,  amounting  often  to  village  greens, 


8  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

where  feed  the  pigs  and  ganders  of  the  people ;  and 
these  roads  are  old-fashioned  homely  roads,  very  dirty 
and  badly  made,  and  hardly  endurable  in  winter,  but 
still  pleasant  jog-trot  roads  running  through  the  great 
pasture  lands,  dotted  here  and  there  with  little  clumps 
of  thorns,  where  the  sleek  kine  are  feeding,  with  no 
fence  on  either  side  of  them,  and  a  gate  at  the  end 
of  each  field,  which  makes  you  get  out  of  your  gig  (if 
you  keep  one),  and  gives  you  a  chance  of  looking 
about  you  every  quarter  of  a  mile. 

One  of  the  moralists  whom  we  sat  under  in  my  youth, 
was  it  the  great  Richard  Swiveller,  or  Mr.  Stiggins  ? 
says,  "  We  are  born  in  a  vale,  and  must  take  the  con- 
sequences of  being  found  in  such  a  situation."  These 
consequences,  I,  for  one,  am  ready  to  encounter.  I  pity 
people  who  weren't  born  in  a  vale.  I  don't  mean  a 
flat  country,  but  a  vale — that  is,  aflat  country  bounded 
by  hills.  The  having  your  hill  always  in  view,  if  you 
choose  to  turn  toward  him,  that's  the  essence  of  a 
vale.  There  he  is  forever  in  the  distance,  your  friend 
and  companion ;  you  never  lose  him  as  you  do  in  hilly 
districts. 

And  then  what  a  hill  is  the  "White  Horse  Hill! 
There  it  stands  right  up  above  all  the  rest,  nine  hundred 
feet  above  the  sea,  and  the  boldest,  bravest  shape  fora 
chalk  hill  that  you  ever  saw.  Let  us  go  up  to  the  top 
of  him,  and  see  what  is  to  be  found  there.  Ay,  you 
may  well  wronder  and  think  it  odd  you  never  heard  of 
this  before ;  but,  wonder  or  not,  as  you  please,  there 
are  hundreds  of  such  things  lying  about  England,  which 
wiser  folk  than  you  know  nothing  of,  and  care  nothing 
for.  Yes,  it's  a  magnificent  Roman  camp,  and  no  mis- 
take, with  gates,  and  ditch,  and  mounds,  all  as  com- 
plete as  it  was  t  \veiity  years  after  the  strong  old  rogues 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  9 

left  it.  Here,  right  up  on  the  highest  point,  from 
which  they  say  you  can  see  eleven  counties,  they 
trenched  round  all  the  table-land,  some  twelve  or  four- 
teen acres,  as  was  their  custom,  for  they  couldn't  bear 
anybody  to  overlook  them,  and  made  their  eyry. 
The  ground  falls  away  rapidly  on  all  sides.  Was  there 
ever  such  turf  in  the  whole  world  ?  You  sink  up  to 
your  ankles  at  every  step,  and  yet  the  spring  of  it  is 
delicious.  There  is  always  a  breeze  in  the  "  camp,"  as 
it  is  called  ;  and  here  it  lies  just  as  the  Eomans  left  it, 
except  that  cairn  on  the  east  side  left  by  her  majesty's 
corps  of  sappers  and  miners  the  other  da}%  when  they 
and  the  engineer  officer  had  finished  their  sojourn 
there,  and  their  surveys  for  the  ordnance  map  of 
Berkshire.  It  is  altogether  a  place  that  you  won't 
forget — a  place  to  open  a  man's  soul  and  make  him 
prophesy  as  he  looks  down  on  that  great  vale  spread 
out  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord  before  him,  and  wave 
on  wave  of  the  mysterious  downs  behind ;  and  to  the 
right  and  left  the  chalk  hills  running  away  into  the 
distance  along  which  he  can  trace  for  miles  the  old 
Roman  road,  "  the  Ridge  way  "  ("  the  Rudge,"  as  the 
country  folk  call  it),  keeping  straight  along  the  highest 
back  of  the  hills — such  a  place  as  Balak  brought 
Balaam  to,  and  told  him  to  prophesy  against  the  peo- 
ple in  the  valley  beneath.  And  he  could  not,  neither 
shall  you,  for  they  are  a  people  of  the  Lord  who  abide 
there. 

And  now  we  leave  the  camp,  and  descend  toward 
the  west,  and  are  on  the  Ashdown.  "We  are  treading 
on  heroes.  It  is  sacred  ground  for  Englishmen,  more 
sacred  than  all  but  one  or  two  fields  where  their  bones 
lie  whitening.  For  this  is  the  actual  place  where  our 
Alfred  won  his  great  battle,  the  battle  of  Ashdown 


10  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

("yEscendum "  in  the  chroniclers),  which  broke  the 
Danish  power,  and  made  England  a  Christian  land. 
The  Danes  held  the  camp  and  the  slope  where  we  are 
standing — the  whole  crown  of  the  hill,  in  fact.  "  The 
heathen  had  beforehand  seized  the  higher  ground,"  as 
old  Asser  says,  having  wasted  everything  behind  them 
from  London,  and  being  just  ready  to  burst  down  on 
the  fair  vale,  Alfred's  own  birthplace  and  heritage. 
And  up  the  heights  came  the  Saxons  as  they  did  at 
the  Alma.  "  The  Christians  led  up  their  line  from  the 
lower  ground.  There  stood  also  on  that  same  spot  a 
single  thorn-tree,  marvelous  stumpy  (which  we  our- 
selves with  our  very  own  eyes  have  seen)."  Bless  the 
old  chronicler !  does  he  think  nobody  ever  saw  the 
"  single  thorn-tree  "  but  himself  ?  Why,  there  it  stands 
to  this  very  day,  just  on  the  edge  of  the  slope,  and  I 
saw  it  not  three  weeks  since  ;  an  old  single  thorn-tree, 
"  marvelous  stumpy."  At  least  if  it  isn't  the  same  tree 
it  ought  to  have  been,  for  it's  just  in  the  place  where 
the  battle  must  have  been  won  or  lost — "  around 
which,  as  I  was  saying,  the  two  lines  of  foeraen  came 
together  in  battle  with  a  huije  shout.  And  in  this 

o  o 

place,  one  of  the  two  kings  of  the  heathen  and  five  of 
his  earls  fell  down  and  died,  and  many  thousands  of 
the  heathen  side  in  the  same  place."  *  After  which 

*  "  Pagani  editioreni  locum  praeoccupaverant.  Christiana  ab  infe- 
riori  loco  aciem  dirigebant.  Erat  quoque  in  eodein  loco  unicaspinosa 
arbor,  brevis  admodum  (quam  nos  ipsi  nostris  propriis  oculis  vidi- 
mus). Circa  quam  ergo  hostiles  inter  se  acies  cum  ingenti  clamore 
hostiliter  conveniunt.  Quo  in  loco  alter  de  duobus  Paganorum  reg- 
ibus  et  quinque  comites  occisi  occubuerunt,  et  multa  millia  Paganse 
partis  in  eodem  loco.  Cecidit  illic  ergo  Boegsceg  Rex,  et  Sidroc  ille 
senex  comes,  et  Sidroc  Junior  comes,  et  Obsbern  comes,"  etc. — An- 
ncdes  Rerum  Oestarum  JSlfredi  Magni,  Auctore  Asseri/o.  Becensutf 
Francticus  Wise.  Oxford,  1722,  p.  23. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  11 

crowning  mercy,  the  pious  king,  that  there  might 
never  be  wanting  a  sign  and  a  memorial  to  the  coun- 
try side,  carved  out  on  the  northern  side  of  the  chalk 
hill,  under  the  camp,  where  it  is  almost  precipitous, 
the  great  Saxon  white  horse,  which  he  who  will  may 
see  from  the  railway,  and  which  gives  its  name  to  the 
vale,  over  which  it  has  looked  these  thousand  years  and 
more. 

Eight  down  below  the  White  Horse,  is  a  curious 
deep  and  broad  gulley  called  "  the  Manger/'  into  one 
side  of  which  the  hills  fall  with  a  series  of  the  most 
lovely  sweeping  curves,  known  as  "  the  Giant's  Stairs ;" 
they  are  not  a  bit  like  stairs,  but  I  never  saw  anything 
like  them  anywhere  else,  with  their  short  green  turf, 
and  tender  blue-bells,  and  gossamer  and  thistle-down 
gleaming  in  the  sun,  and  the  sheep-paths,  running 
along  their  sides  like  ruled  lines. 

The  other  side  of  the  Manger  is  formed  by  the  Drag- 
on's Hill,  a  curious  little  round  self-confident  fellow, 
thrown  forward  from  the  range,  and  utterly  unlike 
everything  round  him.  On  this  hill  some  deliverer  of 
mankind,  St.  George,  the  country-folks  used  to  tell  me, 
killed  a  dragon.  Whether  it  was  St.  George,  I  cannot 
say :  but  surely  a  dragon  was  killed  there,  for  you  may 
see  the  marks  yet  where  his  blood  ran  down,  and  more 
by  token  the  place  where  it  ran  down  is  the  easiest 
way  up  the  hillside. 

Passing  along  the  Ridgeway  to  the  west  for  about  a 
mile,  we  come  to  a  little  clump  of  young  beech  and 
firs,  with  a  growth  of  thorn  and  privet  underwood. 
Here  you  may  find  nests  of  the  strong  down  partridge 
and  peewit,  but  take  care  that  the  keeper  isn't  down 
upon  you  ;  and  in  the  middle  of  it  is  an  old  cromlech, 
a  huge  flat  stone  raised  on  seven  or  eight  others,  and 


12  TOM  BUOWir'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

led  up  to  by  a  path,  with  large  single  stones  set  up  on 
each  side.  This  is  Wayland  Smith's  cave,  a  place  of 
classic  fame  now ;  but  as  Sir  Walter  has  touched  it,  I 
may  as  well  let  it  alone,  and  refer  you  to  "  Kenil- 
worth  "  for  the  legend. 

The  thick  deep  wood  which  you  see  in  the  hollow 
about  a  mile  off,  surrounds  Ashdown  Park,  built  by 
Inigo  Jones.  Four  broad  alleys  are  cut  through  the 
wood  from  circumference  to  center,  and  each  leads  to 
one  face  of  the  house.  The  mystery  of  the  downs 
hangs  about  house  and  wood,  as  they  stand  there  alone 
so  unlike  all  around,  with  the  green  slopes  studded 
with  great  stones  jurt  about  this  part,  stretch  ing  a  way 
on  all  sides.  It  was  a  wise  Lord  Craven,  I  think,  who 
pitched  his  tent  there. 

Passing  along  the  Eidgeway  to  the  east,  we  soon 
come  to  culti  vated  land.  The  downs,  strictly  so  called, 
are  no  more;  Lincolnshire  farmers  have  been  imported, 
and  the  long  fresh  slopes  are  sheep-walks  no  more,  but 
grow  famous  turnips  and  barley.  One  of  those  im- 
provers lives  over  there  at  the  "  Seven  Barrows  "  farm 
another  mystery  of  the  great  downs.  There  are  the 
barrows  still,  solemn  and  silent,  like  ships  in  the  calm 
sea,  the  sepulchers  of  some  sons  of  men.  But  of 
whom  ?  It  is  three  miles  from  the  White  Horse,  too 
far  for  the  slain  of  Ashdown  to  be  buried  there — who 
shall  say  what  heroes  are  waiting  there  ?  But  we  must 
get  down  into  the  vale  again,  and  so  away  by  the  Great 
Western  Railway  to  town,  for  time  and  the  printer's 
devil  press,  and  it  is  a  terrible  long  and  slippery  descent, 
and  a  shocking  bad  road.  At  the  bottom,  however, 
there  is  a  pleasant  public,  whereat  we  must  really  take 
a  modest  quencher,  for  the  down  here  is  a  provocative 
of  thirst.  So  we  pull  up  under  an  old  oak  which  stands 
before  the  door. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  13 

"  "What  is  the  name  of  your  hill,  landlord  ? " 

"  Blawing  STWUN  Hill,  sir,  to  be  sure." 

[Reader.     "Sturm?" 

AUTHOR.     " Stone,  stupid — the  Blowing  Stwie"~\ 

"And  of  your  house  ?     I  can't  make  out  the  sign." 

"  Blawing  Stwun,  sir,"  says  the  landlord,  pouring  out 
his  old  ale  from  a  Toby-Philpot  jug,  with  a  melodi- 
ous crash,  into  the  long  necked  glass. 

"  What  queer  names  !  "  say  we,  sighing  at  the  end 
of  our  draught,  and  holding  out  the  glass  to  be  replen- 
ished. 

"  Be'an't  queer  at  all,  as  I  can  see,  sir,"  says  mine 
host,  handing  back  our  glass,  "  seeing  as  this  here  is 
the  Blawing  Stwun  hisself,"  putting  his  hand  on  a 
square  lump  of  stone  some  three  feet  and  a  half  high, 
perforated  with  two  or  three  queer  holes,  like  petrified 
antediluvian  rat-holes,  which  lies  there  close  under  the 
oak,  under  our  very  nose.  We  are  more  than  ever 
puzzled,  and  drink  our  second  glass  of  ale  wondering 
AV hat  will  come  next.  "Like  to  hear  un,  sir?"  says 
mine  host,  setting  down  TobyPhilpot  on  the  tray,  and 
resting  both  hands  on  the  "Stwun."  We  are  ready 
for  anything ;  and  he,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  ap- 
plies his  mouth  to  one  of  the  rat-holes.  Something 
must  come  of  it,  if  he  doesn't  burst.  Good  heavens ! 
I  hope  he  has  no  apopleptic  tendencies.  Yes,  here  it 
comes,  sure  enough,  a  grewsome  sound  between  a  moan 
and  a  roar,  and  spreads  itself  away  over  the  valley, 
and  up  the  hillside,  and  into  the  woods  at  the  back  of 
the  house — a  ghost-like,  awful  voice.  "  Um  do  say, 
sir,"  says  mine  host  rising  purple-faced,  while  the  moan 
is  still  coming  out  of  the  "  Stwun,"  "  as  they  used  in 
old  times  to  warn  the  country  side,  by  blawing  the 
stwun  when  the  enemy  was  acomin' — and  as  how  folks 


14  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

could  make  un  heered  them  for  seven  mile  round; 
leastways,  so  I've  heered  Lawyer  Smith  say,  and  he 
knows  a  smart  sight  about  them  old  times."  We 
can  hardly  swallow  Lawyer  Smith's  seven  miles ;  but 
could  the  blowing  of  the  stone  have  been  a  summons, 
a  sort  of  sending  the  fiery  cross  round  the  neigh- 
borhood in  the  old  times?  What  old  times? 
Who  knows  ?  We  pay  for  our  beer,  and  are  thank- 
ful. 

"And  what's  the  name  of  the  village  just  below, 
landlord  ? " 

"Kingstone  Lisle,  sir." 

" Fine  plantations  you've  got  here? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  the  Squire's  'mazin'  fond  of  trees  and  such 
like." 

"  No  wonder.  He's  got  some  real  beauties  to  be 
fond  of.  Good  day,  landlord." 

"  Good  day,  sir,  and  a  pleasant  ride  to  'e." 

And  now,  my  boys,  you  whom  I  want  to  get  for 
readers,  have  you  had  enough  ?  Will  you  give  in  at 
once,  and  say  you're  convinced,  and  let  me  begin  my 
story,  or  will  you  have  more  of  it?  Remember,  I've 
only  been  over  a  little  bit  of  the  hillside  yet — what 
you  could  ride  round  easily  on  your  ponies  in  an  hour. 
I'm  only  just  come  down  into  the  vale,  by  Blowing 
Stone  Hill,  and  if  I  once  begin  about  the  vale,  what's 
to  stop  me  ?  You'll  have  to  hear  all  about  Wantage, 
the  birthplace  of  Alfred,  and  Farringdon,  which  held 
out  so  long  for  Charles  the  First  (the  vale  was  near 
Oxford,  and  dreadfully  malignant ;  full  of  Throgmor- 
tons,  Puseys,  and  Pyes,  and  such  like,  and  their 
brawny  retainers).  Did  you  ever  read  Thomas  In- 
goldsby's  "Legend  of  Hamilton  Tighe?"  If  you 
haven't  you  ought  to  have,  Well,  Farringdon  is  where 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  15 

he  lived  before  he  went  to  sea ;  his  real  name  was 
Ilampden  Pye,  and  the  Pyes  were  the  great  folk  at 
at  Farringdon.  Then  there's  Pusey,  you've  heard  of 
the  Pusey  horn,  which  King  Canute  gave  to  the  Pu- 
sey s  of  that  day,  and  which  the  gallant  old  squire,  lately 
gone  to  his  rest  (whom  Berkshire  freeholders  turned 
out  of  last  parliament,  to  their  eternal  disgrace,  for 
voting  according  to  his  conscience),  used  to  bring  out 
on  high  days,  holidays,  and  bonfire  nights.  And  the 
splendid  old  cross  church  at  Uffington,  the  Uffingas 
town ;  the  whole  country-side  teems  with  Saxon  names 
and  memories !  And  the  old  moated  grange  at  Corap- 
ton,  nestled  close  under  the  hillside,  where  twenty 
Marianas  may  have  lived,  with  its  bright  water-lilies 
in  the  moat,  and  its  yew  walk,  "  the  cloister  walk," 
and  its  peerless  terraced  gardens.  There  they  all  are, 
and  twenty  things  besides  ;  for  those  who  care  about 
them,  and  have  eyes.  And  these  are  the  sort  of  things 
you  may  find,  I  believe,  every  one  of  you,  in  any  com- 
mon English  country  neighborhood. 

Will  you  look  for  them  under  your  own  noses,  or 
will  you  not?  Well,  well;  I've  done  what  I  can  to 
make  you,  and  if  you  will  go  gadding  over  half  Europe 
now  every  holidays,  I  can't  help  it.  I  was  born  and 
bred  a  west-country-man,  thank  God  !  a  Wessex  man, 
a  citizen  of  the  noblest  Saxon  kingdom  of  Wessex,  a 
regular,  "  Angular  Saxon,"  the  very  soul  of  me  "  ad- 
scriptus  glebe."  There's  nothing  like  the  old  country- 
side for  me,  and  no  music  like  the  twang  of  the  real 
old  Saxon  tongue,  as  one  gets  it  fresh  from  the  veri- 
table chaw  in  the  White  Horse  Vale  :  and  I  say  with 
"  Gaarge  Ridler,"  the  old  west-country  yeoman, 


16  TOM  nnowN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Throo  aall  the  waarld  owld  Gaarge  would  bwoast, 
Commend  me  to  merry  owld  England  mwoast : 
While  vools  gwoes  prating  vur  and  nigh, 
We  stwops  at  whum,  my  dog  and  I." 

Here  at  any  rate  lived  and  stopped  at  home,  Squire 
Brown,  J.P.  for  the  county  of  Berks,  in  a  village  rear 
the  foot  of  the  White  Horse  range.  And  here  he  dealt 
out  justice  and  mercy  in  a  rough  way,  and  begat  sons 
and  daughters,  and  hunted  the  fox,  and  grumbled  at 
the  badness  of  the  roads  and  the  times.  And  his  wife 
dealt  out  stockings,  and  calico  shirts,  and  smock  frocks, 
and  comforting  drinks  to  the  old  folks  with  the  "rheu- 
matiz,"  and  good  counsel  to  all:  and  kept  the  coal  and 
clothes  clubs  going,  for  yule-tide,  when  the  bands  of 
mummers  came  round,  dressed  out  in  ribbons  and  col- 
ored paper  caps,  and  stamped  round  the  squire's 
kitchen,  repeating  in  true  sing-song  vernacular  the  leg- 
end of  St.  George  and  his  fight,  and  the  ten-pound 
doctor,  who  plays  his  part  at  healing  the  saint — a 
relic,  I  believe,  of  the  old  middle-age  mysteries.  It 
was  the  first  dramatic  representation  which  greeted 
the  eyes  of  little  Tom,  who  was  brought  down  into 
the  kitchen  by  his  nurse  to  witness  it,  at  the  mature 
age  of  three  years.  Tom  was  the  eldest  child  of  his 
parents,  and  from  his  earliest  babyhood  exhibited  the 
family  characteristics  in  great  strength,  lie  was  a 
hearty  strong  boy  from  the  first,  given  to  fighting  with 
and  escaping  from  his  nurse,  and  fraternizing  with  all 
the  village  boys,  with  whom  he  made  expeditions  all 
round  the  neighborhood.  And  here  in  the  quiet  old- 
fashioned  country  village,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
everlasting  hills,  Tom  Brown  was  reared,  and  never 
left  it  till  he  went  first  to  school  when  nearly  eight 
years  of  age,  for  in  those  days  change  of  air  twice  a 


BROWN'S  SCHOOL  BAITS.  17 

year  was  not  thought  absolutely  necessary  for  the 
health  of  all  her  majesty's  lieges. 

I  have  been  credibly  informed,  and  am  inclined  to 
believe,  that  the  various  Boards  of  Directors  of  rail- 
way companies,  those  gigantic  jobbers  and  bribers, 
while  quarreling  about  everything  else,  agreed  together 
some  ten  years  back,  to  buy  up  the  learned  profession 
of  medicine,  body  and  soul.  To  this  end  they  set 
apart  several  millions  of  money,  which  they  contin- 
ually distribute  judiciously  among  the  doctors,  stipu- 
lating only  this  one  thing,  that  they  shall  prescribe 
change  of  air  to  every  patient,  who  can  pay  or  borrow 
money  to  pay,  a  railway  fare,  and  see  their  prescription 
carried  out.  If  it  be  not  for  this,  why  is  it  that  none 
of  us  can  be  well  at  home  for  a  year  together?  It 
wasn't  so  twenty  years  ago,  not  a  bit  of  it.  The  Browns 
didn't  go  out  of  the  county  once  in  five  years.  A 
visit  to  Reading  or  Abingdon  twice  a-year,  at  Assizes 
or  Quarter  Sessions,  which  the  squire  made  on  his 
horse,  with  a  pair  of  saddle-bags  containing  his  ward- 
robe, a  stay  of  a  day  or  two  at  some  country  neigh- 
bor's, or  an  expedition  to  a  county  ball,  or  the  yeo- 
manry review,  made  up  the  sum  of  the  Brown  locomo- 
tion in  most  years.  A  stray  Brown  from  some  dis- 
tant county  dropped  in  every  now  and  then  ;  or  from 
Oxford,  on  grave  nag,  an  old  don,  contemporary  of 
the  squire  ;  and  were  looked  upon  by  the  Brown  house- 
hold and  the  villagers  with  the  same  sort  of  feeling 
with  which  we  now  regard  a  man  who  has  crossed  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  or  launched  a  boat  on  the  Great 
Lake  in  Central  Africa.  The  White  Horse  Vale,  re- 
member, was  traversed  by  no  great  road  ;  nothing  but 
country  parish  roads,  and  these  very  bad.  Only  one 
coach  ran  there,  and  this  one  only  from  "Wantage  to 


18  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

London,  so  that  the  western  part  of  the  Vale  was  with- 
out regular  means  of  moving  oil,  and  certainly  didn't 
seem  to  want  them.  There  was  the  canal,  by  the  way, 
which  supplied  the  country  side  with  coal,  and  up  and 
down  which  continually  went  the  long  barges,  with 
the  big  black  men  lounging  by  the  side  of  the  horses 
along  the  towing  path,  and  the  women  in  bright 
colored  handkerchiefs  standing  in  the  sterns  steering. 
Standing  I  say,  but  you  could  never  see  whether  they 
were  standing  or  sitting,  all  but  their  heads  and 
shoulders  being  out  of  sight  in  the  cozy  little  cabins 
which  occupied  some  eight  feet  of  the  stern,  and  which 
Tom  Brown  pictured  to  himself  as  the  most  desirable 
of  residences.  His  nurse  told  him  that  those  good- 
natured-looking  women  were  in  the  constant  habit  of 
enticing  children  into  the  barges  and  taking  them  up 
to  London  and  selling  them,  which  Tom  wouldn't  be- 
lieve, and  which  made  him  resolve  as  soon  as  possible 
to  accept  the  oft-proffered  invitation  of  these  sirens  to 
"  young  master,"  to  come  in  and  have  a  ride.  But  as 
yet  the  nurse  was  too  much  for  Tom. 

Yet  why  should  I  after  all  abuse  the  gadabout  pro- 
pensities of  my  countrymen?  We  are  a  vagabond 
nation  now,  that's  certain,  for  better  for  worse.  I  am 
a  vagabond ;  I  have  been  away  from  home  no  less  than 
five  distinct  times  in  the  last  year.  The  queen  sets  us 
the  example — we  are  moving  on  from  top  to  bottom. 
Little  dirty  Jack,  who  abides  in  Clement's  Inn  gate- 
way and  blacks  my  boots  for  a  penny,  takes  his 
month's  hop-picking  every  year  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Why  shouldn't  he  ?  I'm  delighted  at  it.  I  love  vaga- 
bonds, only  I  prefer  poor  to  rich  ones ;  couriers  and 
ladies'  maids,  imperials  and  traveling  carriages,  are  an 
abomination  unto  me — I  cannot  away  with  them, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  19 

But  for  dirty  Jack,  and  every  good  fellow  who,  in  the 
words  of  the  capital  French  song,  moves  about, 

"  Comme  le  lima<;on, 
Portant  tout  son  bagage, 
Ses  ineubles,  sa  maison," 

• 

on  his  own  back,  why,  good  luck  to  them,  and  many  a 
merry  road-side  adventure,  and  steaming  supper  in 
the  chimney  corners  of  road-side  inns,  Swiss  chalets, 
Hottentot  kraals,  or  wherever  else  they  like  to  go.  So 
having  succeeded  in  contradicting  myself  in  my  tirst 
chapter  (which  gives  me  great  hopes  that  you  will  all 
go  on,  and  think  me  a  good  fellow  not  withstanding  my 
crotchet),  I  shall  here  shut  up  for  the  present,  and 
consider  my  ways:  having  resolved  to  "  sar'  it  out," 
as  we  say  in  the  Vale,  "  holus  bolus  "  just  as  it  comes, 
and  then  you'll  probably  get  the  truth  out  of  me. 


20  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   VEAST. 

"  And  the  king  commandetli  and  forbiddeth,  that  from  henceforth 
neither  fairs  nor  markets  be  kept  in  church-yards,  for  the  honor  of 
the  church." — STATUTES:  13  Edw.  I.  Stat.  n.  cap.  vi. 

As  THAT  venerable  and  learned  poet  (whose  volumin- 
ous works  we  all  think  it  the  correct  thing  to  admire 
and  talk  about,  but  don't  read  often),  most  truly  says, 
"  the  child  is  father  to  the  man ; "  d fortiori^  therefore 
he  must  be  father  to  the  boy.  So,  as  we  are  going 
at  any  rate  to  see  Tom  Brown  through  his  boyhood, 
supposing  we  never  get  any  further  (which  if  you 
show  a  proper  sense  of  the  value  of  this  history,  there 
is  no  knowing  but  what  we  may),  let  us  have  a  look 
at  the  life  and  environments  of  the  child,  in  the  quiet 
country  village  to  which  we  were  introduced  in  the 
last  chapter. 

Tom,  as  has  been  already  said,  was  a  robust  and 
combative  urchin,  and  at  the  age  of  four  began  to 
struggle  against  the  yoke  and  authority  of  his  nurse. 
That  functionary  was  a  good-hearted,  tearful,  scatter- 
brained girl,  lately  taken  by  Tom's  mother,  Madam 
Brown,  as  she  was  called,  from  the  village  school  to  be 
trained  as  nurserymaid.  Madam  Brown  was  a  rare 
trainer  of  servants,  and  spent  herself  freely  in  the  pro- 
fession ;  for  profession  it  was,  and  gave  her  more 
trouble  by  ball  than  many  people  take  to  earn  a  good 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS.  21 

income.  Her  servants  were  known  and  sought  after 
for  miles  round.  Almost  all  the  girls  who  attained  a 
certain  place  in  the  village  school  were  taken  by  her, 
one  or  two  at  a  time,  as  housemaids,  laundry  maids, 
nurserymaids,  or  kitchenmaids,  and  after  a  year  or 
two's  drilling,  were  started  in  life  among  the  neigh- 
bouring families,  with  good  principles  and  wardrobes. 
One  of  the  results  of  this  system  was  the  perpetual 
despair  of  Mrs.  Brown's  cook  and  own  maid,  who  no 
sooner  had  a  notable  girl  made  to  their  hands,  than 
missus  was  sure  to  find  a  good  place  for  her  and  send 
her  off,  taking  in  fresh  importations  from  the  school. 
Another  was,  that  the  house  was  always  full  of  young 
girls,  with  clean  shining  faces;  who  broke  plates  and 
scorched  linen,  but  made  an  atmosphere  of  cheerful 
homely  life  about  the  place,  good  for  every  one  who 
came  within  its  influence.  Mrs.  Brown  loved  young 
people,  and  in  fact  human  creatures  in  general,  above 
plates  and  linen.  They  were  more  like  a  lot  of  elder 
children  than  servants,  and  felt  to  her  more  as  a  mother 
or  aunt  than  as  a  mistress. 

Tom's  nurse  was  one  who  took  in  her  instruction 
very  slowly — she  seemed  to  have  two  left  hands  and 
no  head  ;  and  so  Mrs.  Brown  kept  her  on  longer  than 
usual,  that  she  might  expend  her  awkwardness  and  for- 
getf  ulness  upon  those  who  would  not  judge  and  punish 
her  too  strictly  for  them. 

Charity  Lamb  was  her  name.  It  had  been  the  im- 
memorial habit  of  the  v.illage,  to  christen  children 
either  by  Bible  names,  or  by  those  of  the  cardinal  and 
other  virtues ;  so  that  one  was  forever  hearing  in  the 
village  street,  or  on  the  green,  shrill  sounds  of,  "  Pru- 
dence !  Prudence !  thee  cum'  out  o'  the  gutter ; "  or, 
"  Mercy  I  d'rat  the  girl,  what  bist  thee  a  doin'  wi* 


22  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

little  Faith  ?  "  and  there  were  Kuths,  Kachels,  Keziahs, 
in  every  corner.  The  same  with  the  boys  ;  they  were 
Benjamins,  Jacobs,  Noahs,  Enochs.  I  suppose  the  cus- 
tom has  come  down  from  Puritan  times,  there  it  is  at 
any  rate,  very  strong  still  in  the  Vale. 

Well,  from  early  morn,  till  dewy  eve,  when  she  had 
it  out  of  him  in  the  cold  tub  before  putting  him  to  bed, 
Charity  and  Tom  were  pitted  against  one  another. 
Physical  power  was  as  yet  on  the  side  of  Charity,  but 
she  hadn't  a  chance  with  him  wherever  head-work  was 
wanted.  This  war  of  independence  began  every  morn- 
ing before  breakfast,  when  Charity  escorted  her  charge 
to  a  neighboring  farm-house  which  supplied  the  Browns 
and  where,  by  his  mother's  wish,  Master  Tom  went  to 
drink  whey,  before  breakfast.  Tom  had  no  sort  of  ob- 
jection to  whey,  but  he  had  a  decided  liking  for  curds, 
which  were  forbidden  as  unwholesome,  and  there  was 
seldom  a  morning  that  he  did  not  manage  to  secure  a 
handful  of  hard  curds,  in  defiance  of  Charity  and  of 
the  farmer's  wife.  The  latter  good  soul  was  a  gaunt, 
angular  woman,  who  with  an  old  black  bonnet  on  the 
top  of  her  head,  the  strings  dangling  about  her  shoul- 
ders, and  her  gown  tucked  through  her  pocket-holes, 
went  clattering  about  the  dairy,  cheese-room  and  yard, 
in  high  pattens.  Charity  was  some  sort  of  niece  of  the 
old  lady's,  and  was  consequently  free  of  the  farm-house 
and  garden,  into  which  she  could  not  resist  going  for 
the  purposes  of  gossip  and  flirtation  with  the  heir-ap- 
parent, who  was  a  dawdling  fellow,  never  out  at  work 
as  he  ought  to  have  been.  The  moment  Charity  had 
found  her  cousin,  or  any  other  occupation,  Tom  would 
slip  away  ;  and  in  a  minute  shrill  cries  would  be  heard 
from  the  dairy,  "  Charity,  Charity,  thee  lazy  huzzy, 
where  bist?"  and  Tom  would  break  cover,  hands  and 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  23 

mouth  full  of  curds,  and  take  refuge  on  the  shaky  sur- 
face of  the  great  muck  reservoir  in  the  middle  of  the 
yard,  disturbing  the  repose  of  the  great  pigs.  Here  he 
was  in  safety,  as  no  grown  person  could  follow  without 
getting  over  their  knees ;  and  the  luckless  Charity, 
while  her  aunt  scolded  her  from  the  dairy-door,  for 
being  "  allus  hankering  about  arter  our  Willum,  instead 
of  minding  Master  Tom,"  would  descend  from  threats 
to  coaxing,  to  lure  Tom  out  of  the  muck,  which  was 
rising  over  his  shoes  and  would  soon  tell  a  tale  on  his 
stockings,  for  which  she  would  be  sure  to  catch  it  from 
missus'  maid. 

Tom  had  two  abettors  in  the  shape  of  a  couple  of  old 
"boys,  Noah  and  Benjamin  by  name,  who  defended  him 
from  Charity,  and  expended  much  time  upon  his  edu- 
cation. They  were  both  of  them  retired  servants  of 
former  generations  of  the  Browns.  Noah  Crooke  was 
a  keen  dry  old  man  of  almost  ninety,  but  still  able  to 
totter  about.  He  talked  to  Tom  quite  as  if  he  were 
one  of  his  own  family,  and  indeed  had  long  completely 
identified  the  Browns  with  himself.  In  some  remote 
age  he  had  been  the  attendant  of  a  Miss  Brown,  and 
had  conveyed  her  about  the  country  on  a  pillon.  He 
had  a  little  round  picture  of  the  identical  gray  horse, 
caparisoned  with  the  identical  pillon,  before  which  he 
used  to  do  a  sort  of  fetish  worship,  and  abuse  turnpike- 
roads  and  carriages.  He  wore  an  old  full-bottomed 
wig,  the  gift  of  some  dandy  old  Brown  whom  he  had 
valeted  in  the  middle  of  last  century,  which  habiliment 
Master  Tom  looked  upon  with  considerable  respect, 
not  to  say  fear  ;  and  indeed  his  whole  feeling  toward 
Noah  was  strongly  tainted  with  awe  ;  and  when  the 
old  gentleman  was  gathered  to  his  fathers,  Tom's  lam- 
entation over  him  was  not  unaccompanied  by  a  certain 


24  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS. 

joy  at  having  seen  the  last  of  the  wig :  "  Poor  old 
Noah,  dead  and  gone,"  said  he,  "  Tom  Brown  so  sorry. 
Put  him  in  the  coffin,  wig  and  all." 

But  old  Benjy  was  young  master's  real  delight  and 
refuge.  He  was  a  youth  by  the  side  of  Noah,  scarce 
seventy  years  old.  A  cheery,  humorous,  kind-hearted 
old  man,  full  of  sixty  years  of  Vale  gossip,  and  of  all 
sorts  of  helpful  ways  for  young  and  old,  but  above  all 
for  children.  It  was  he  who  bent  the  first  pin,  with 
which  Tom  extracted  his  first  stickleback  out  of 
"  Pebbly  Brook,"  the  little  stream  which  ran  through 
the  village.  The  first  stickleback  was  a  splendid  fel- 
low, with  fabulous  red  and  blue  gills.  Tom  kept  him 
in  a  small  basin  till  the  day  of  his  death,  and  became 
a  fisherman  from  that  day.  Within  a  month  from  the 
taking  of  the  first  stickleback,  Benjy  had  carried  otf 
our  hero  to  the  canal,  in  defiance  of  Charity,  and  be- 
tween them,  after  a  whole  afternoon's  popjoying  they 
had  caught  three  or  four  small  coarse  fish  and  a  perch, 
averaging  perhaps  two  and  a  half  ounces  each,  which 
Tom  bore  home  in  rapture  to  his  mother  as  a  precious 
gift,  and  she  received  like  a  true  mother  with  equal 
rapture,  instructing  the  cook  nevertheless,  in  a  private 
interview,  not  to  prepare  the  same  for  the  squire's 
dinner.  Charity  had  appealed  against  old  Benjy  in 
the  meantime,  representing  the  dangers  of  the  canal 
banks ;  but  Mrs.  Brown  seeing  the  boy's  inaptitude 
for  female  guidance,  had  decided  in  Benjy's  favor, 
and  from  thenceforth  the  old  man  was  Tom's  dry 
nurse.  And  as  they  sat  by  the  canal  watching  their 
little  green  and  white  float,  Benjy  would  instruct  him 
in  the  doings  of  deceased  Browns.  How  his  grand- 
father, in  the  early  days  of  the  great  war,  when 
there  was  much  distress  and  crime  in  the  Vale,  and 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS.  25 

the  magistrates  had  been  threatened  by  the  mob,  had 
ridden  in  with  a  big  stick  in  his  hand,  and  held  the 
Petty  Sessions  by  himself.  How  his  great  uncle,  the 
rector,  had  encountered  and  laid  the  last  ghost,  who 
had  frightened  the  old  women,  male  and  female,  of 
the  parish  out  of  their  senses,  and  who  turned  out 
to  be  the  blacksmith's  apprentice,  disguised  in  drink 
and  a  white  sheet.  It  was  Benjy  too  who  saddled 
Tom's  first  pony,  and  instructed  him  in  the  mysteries 
of  horsemanship,  teaching  him  to  throw  his  weight 
back  and  keep  his  hand  low  ;  and  who  stood  chuckling 
outside  the  door  of  the  girls'  school,  when  Tom  rode 
his  little  Shetland  into  the  cottage  and  round  the  table 
where  the  old  dame  and  her  pupils  were  seated  at  their 
work. 

Benjy  himself  was  come  of  a  family  distinguished  in 
the  vale  for  their  prowess  in  all  athletic  games.  Some 
half-dozen  of  his  brothers  and  kinsmen  had  gone  to  the 
wars,  of  whom  only  one  had  survived  to  come  home,  with 
a  small  pension,  and  three  bullets  in  different  parts  of 
his  body ;  he  had  shared  Benjy's  cottage  till  his  death, 
and  had  left  him.  his  old  dragoon's  sword  and  pistol, 
which  hung  over  the  mantel-piece,  flanked  by  a  pair  of 
heavy  single-sticks  with  which  Benjy  himself  had  won 
renown  long  ago  as  an  old  gamester,  against  the  picked 
men  of  Wiltshire  and  Somersetshire,  in  many  a  good 
bout  at  the  revels  and  pastime  of  the  country- 
side. For  he  had  been  a  famous  back-sword  man 
in  his  young  days,  and  a  good  wrestler  at  elbow  and 
collar. 

Back-swording  and  wrestling  were  the  most  serious 
holiday  pursuits  at  the  Yale,  those  by  which  men  at- 
tained fame,  and  each  village  had  its  champion.  I 
I  suppose  that  on  the  whole,  people  were  less  worked 


26  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

then  than  they  are  now  ;  at  any  rate,  they  seemed  to 
have  more  time  and  energy  for  the  old  pastimes.  The 
great  times  for  back  swording  came  round  once  a-year 
in  each  village,  at  the  feast.  The  Yale  "  veasts  "  were 
not  the  common  statute  feasts,  but  much  more  ancient 
business.  They  are  literally,  so  far  as  one  can  ascer- 
tain, feasts  of  the  dedication,  i.  e.,  they  were  first  estab- 
lished in  the  churchyard  on  the  day  on  which  the  vil- 
lage church  was  opened  for  public  worship,  which  was 
on  the  wake  or  festival  of  the  patron  saint,  and  have 
been  held  on  the  same  day  in  every  year  since  that 
time. 

There  was  no  longer  any  remembrance  of  why  the 
"  veast"  had  been  instituted,  but  nevertheless  it  had  a 
pleasant  and  almost  sacred  character  of  its  own.  For 
it  was  then  that  all  the  children  of  the  village, 
wherever  they  were  scattered,  tried  to  get  home  for  a 
holiday  to  visit  their  fathers  and  mothers  and  friends, 
bringing  with  them  their  wages  or  some  little  gift 
from  up  the  country  for  the  old  folk.  Perhaps  for  a 
day  or  two  before,  but  at  any  rate  on  "  veast  day  " 
and  the  day  after,  in  our  village,  you  might  see  strap- 
ping healthy  young  men  and  women  from  all  parts  of 
the  country  going  round  from  house  to  house  in  their 
best  clothes,  and  finishing  up  with  a  call  on  Madam 
Brown,  whom  they  would  consult  as  to  putting  out  their 
earnings  to  the  best  advantage  or  how  to  expend  the 
same  best  for  the  benefit  of  the  old  folk.  Every  house- 
hold, however  poor,  managed  to  raise  a  "  feast-cake  " 
and  bottle  of  ginger  or  raisin  wine,  which  stood  on  the 
the  cottage-table  ready  for  all  comers,  and  not  unlikely 
to  make  them  remember  feast  time,  for  feast-cake  is 
very  solid,  and  full  of  huge  raisins.  Moreover,  feast- 
time  was  the  day  of  reconciliation  for  the  parish.  If 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  £7 

Job  Higgins  and  Noah  Freeman  hadn't  spoken  for  the 
last  six  months,  their  "  old  women  "  would  be  sure  to 
get  it  patched  up  by  that  day.  And  though  there  was 
a  good  deal  of  drinking  and  low  vice  in  the  booths  of 
an  evening,  it  was  pretty  well  confined  to  those  who 
would  have  been  doing  the  like,  "  veast  or  no  veast," 
and  on  the  whole,  the  effect  was  humanizing  and  Chris- 
tian. In  fact,  the  only  reason  why  this  is  not  the  case 
still,  is  that  gentle-folk  and  farmers  have  taken  to  other 
amusements,  and  have,  as  usual,  forgotten  the  poor. 
They  don't  attend  the  feasts  themselves,  and  call  them 
disreputable  whereupon  the  steadiest  of  the  poor  leave 
them  also,  and  they  become  what  they  are  called.  Class 
amusements,  be  they  for  dukes  or  plow-boys,  always 
become  nuisances  and  curses  to  a  country.  The  true 
charm  of  cricket  and  hunting  is,  that  they  are  still 
more  or  less  sociable  and  universal ;  there's  a  place  for 
every  man  who  will  come  and  take  his  part. 

No  one  in  the  village  enjoyed  the  approach  of 
"  veast  day  "  more  than  Tom,  in  the  year  in  which  he 
was  taken  under  old  Benjy's  tutelage.  The  feast  was 
held  in  a  large  green  field  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
village.  The  road  to  Farringdon  ran  along  one  side 
of  it,  and  the  brook  by  the  side  of  the  road ;  and 
above  the  brook  was  another  large  gentle  sloping  pas- 
ture-land, with  a  foot-path  running  down  it  from  the 
churchyard  ;  and  the  old  church,  the  originator  of  all 
the  mirth,  towered  up  with  its  gray  walls  and  lancet 
windows,  overlooking  and  sanctioning  the  whole, 
though  its  own  share  therein  had  been  forgotten.  At 
the  point  where  the  footpath  crossed  the  brook  and 
road,  and  entered  on  the  field  where  the  feast  was  held 
was  a  long  low  roadside  inn,  and  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  field  was  a  large  white  thatched  farm-house, 


28  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  BAYS. 

where  dwelt  an  old  sporting  farmer,  a  great  promoter 
of  the  revels. 

Past  the  old  church,  and  down  the  footpath,  pottered 
the  old  man  and  the  child  hand  in  hand  early  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  before  the  feast,  and  wandered  all 
round  the  ground,  which  was  already  being  occupied 
by  the  "  cheap  Jacks,"  with  their  green  covered  carts 
and  marvelous  assortment  of  wares,  and  the  booths  of 
more  legitimate  small  traders  with  their  tempting  ar- 
rays of  fairings  and  eatables!  and  penny  peep-shows 
and  other  shows,  containing  pink-eyed  ladies,  and 
dwarfs,  and  boa-constrictors,  and  wild  Indians.  But 
the  object  of  most  interest  to  Benjy,  and  of  course  to 
his  pupil  also,  was  the  stage  of  rough  planks  some  four 
feet  high,  which  was  being  put  up  by  the  village  car- 
penter for  the  baok-s\vording  and  wrestling  ;  and  after 
surveying  the  whole  tenderly,  old  Benjy  led  his  charge 
away  to  the  road-side  inn,  where  he  ordered  a  glass 
of  ale  and  a  long  pipe  for  himself,  and  discussed  these 
unwonted  luxuries  on  the  bench  outside  in  the  soft 
autumn  evening  with  mine  host,  another  old  servant 
of  the  Browns,  and  speculated  with  him  on  the  likeli- 
hood of  a  good  show  of  old  gamesters  to  contend  for 
the  morrow's  prizes,  and  told  tales  of  the  gallant  bouts 
of  forty  years  back,  to  which  Tom  listened  with  all 
his  ears  and  eyes. 

But  who  shall  tell  the  joy  of  the  next  morning,  when 
the  church  bells  were  ringing  a  merry  peal,  and  old 
Benjy  appeared  in  the  servant's  hall,  resplendent  in  a 
long  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons,  and  a  pair  of  old 
yellow  buckskins  and  top-boots,  which  he  had  cleaned 
for  and  inherited  from  Tom's  grandfather ;  a  stout 
thorn-stick  in  his  hand,  and  a  nosegay  of  pinks  and 
lavender  in  his  button-hole,  and  led  away  Tom  in  his 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  29 

best  clothes,  and  two  new  shillings  in  his  breeches- 
pockets  ?  Those  two,  at  any  rate,  look  like  enjoying 
the  day's  revel. 

They  quicken  their  pace  when  they  get  into  the 
churchyard,  for  already  they  see  the  field  thronged  with 
country  folk,  the  men  in  clean  white  smocks  or  velveteen 
or  fustian  coats,  with  rough  plush  waistcoats  of  many 
colors,  and  the  women  in  the  beautiful  long  scarlet 
cloak,  the  usual  out-door  dress  of  west-country  women 
in  those  days,  and  which  often  descended  in  families 
from  mother  to  daughter,  or  in  new-fashioned  stuff 
shawls,  which,  if  they  would  but  believe  it,  don't  be- 
come them  half  so  well.  The  air  resounds  with  the  pipe 
and  tabor,  and  the  drums  and  trumpets  of  the  show- 
men shouting  at  the  doors  of  their  caravans,  over 
which  tremendous  pictures  of  the  wonders  to  be  seen 
within  hang  temptingly  ;  while  through  all  rises  the 
shrill  "  root-too  too-too  "  of  Mr.  Punch,  and  the  unceas- 
ing pan-pipe  of  his  satellite. 

"  Lawk  a'  massey,  Mr.  Benjamin,"  cries  a  stout, 
motherly  woman  in  a  red  cloak,  as  they  enter  the  field, 
"be  that  you?  "Well  I  never!  you  do  look  purely. 
And  how's  the  squire,  and  madam,  and  the  family?" 

Ben  jy  graciously  shakes  hands  with  the  speaker,  who 
has  left  our  village  for  some  years,  but  has  come  over 
for  Veast-day  on  a  visit  to  an  old  gossip,  and  gently 
indicates  the  heir-apparent  of  the  Browns. 

"  Bless  his  little  heart !  I  must  gi'  un  a  kiss.  Here 
Susannah,  Susannah  !"  cries  she,  raising  herself  from 
the  embrace,  "  come  and  see  Mr.  Benjamin  and  young 
Master  Tom.  You  minds  our  Sukey,  Mr.  Benjamin, 
she  be  growed  a  rare  slip  of  a  wench  since  you  seen 
her,  tho'  her1!!  be  sixteen  come  Martinmas.  I  do  aim 
to  take  her  to  see  roaclaui  to  get  her  a 


30  TOM  BROWNE'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

And  Sukey  comes  bouncing  away  from  a  knot  of  old 
school-fellows,  and  drops  a  courtsey  to  Mr.  Benjamin. 
And  elders  come  up  from  all  parts  to  salute  Ben jy,  and 
girls  who  have  been  madam's  pupils  to  kiss  Master 
Tom.  And  they  carry  him  off  to  load  him  with  fair- 
ings ;  and  he  returns  to  Benjy,  his  hat  and  coat  cov- 
ered with  ribbons,  and  his  pockets  crammed  with  won- 
derful boxes,  which  open  upon  ever  new  boxes  and 
boxes,  and  popguns  and  trumpets,  and  apples,  and  gilt 
gingerbread  from  the  stall  of  Angel  Heavens,  sole  ven- 
dor thereof,  whose  booth  groans  with  kings  and  queens, 
and  elephants,  and  prancing  steeds  all  gleaming  with 
gold.  There  was  more  gold  on  Angel's  cakes  than 
there  is  ginger  in  those  of  this  degenerate  age.  Skilled 
diggers  might  yet  make  a  fortune  in  the  church-yards 
of  the  Vale,  by  carefully  washing  the  dust  of  the  con- 
sumers of  Angel's  ginger-bread.  Alas!  he  is  with  his 
namesakes,  and  his  recipes  have,  I  fear,  died  with 
him. 

And  then  they  inspect  the  penny  peep-show,  at  least 
Tom  does,  while  old  Benjy  stands  outside  and  gossips, 
and  walks  up  the  steps,  and  enters  the  mysterious  doors 
of  the  pink-eyed  lady,  and  the  Irish  giant,  who  do  not 
by  any  means  come  up  to  their  pictures  ;  and  the  boa 
will  not  swallow  his  rabbit,  but  there  the  rabbit  is  wait- 
ing to  be  swallowed,  and  what  can  you  expect  for  tup- 
pence ?  We  are  easily  pleased  in  the  Yale.  Now  there 
is  a  rush  of  the  crowd,  and  a  tinkling  bell  is  heard,  and 
shouts  of  laughter ;  and  Master  Tom  mounts  on  Ben  jy's 
shoulders  and  beholds  a  jingling  match  in  all  its  glory. 

The  games  are  begun,  and  this  is  the  opening  of 
them.  It  is  a  quaint  game,  immensely  amusing  to  look 
at,  and  as  I  don't  know  whether  it  is  used  in  your 
counties,  I  had  better  describe  it,  A  large  roped  ring 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  BAYS.  31 

is  made,  into  which  are  introduced  a  dozen  or  so  of 
big  boys  and  young  men  who  mean  to  play  ;  these 
are  carefully  blinded  and  turned  loose  into  the  ring, 
and  then  a  man  is  introduced  not  blindfolded,  with  a 
bell  hung  round  his  neck,  and  his  two  hands  tied 
behind  him.  Of  course  every  time  he  moves,  the  bell 
must  ring,  as  he  has  no  hand  to  held  it,  and  so  the 
dozen  blindfolded  men  have  to  catch  him.  This  they 
cannot  always  manage  if  he  is  a  lively  fellow,  but  half 
of  them  always  rush  into  the  arms  of  the  other  half, 
or  drive  their  heads  together,  or  tumble  over;  and 
then  the  crowd  laughs  vehemently,  and  invents  nick- 
names for  them  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  they, 
if  they  be  choleric,  tear  off  the  handkerchiefs  which 
blind  them,  and  not  unfrequently  pitch  into  one 
another,  each  thinking  that  the  other  must  have  run 
against  him  on  purpose.  It  is  great  fun  to  look  at  a 
jingling-match  certainly,  and  Tom  shouts,  and  jumps 
on  old  Benjy's  shoulders  at  the  sight,  until  the  old 
man  feels  weary,  and  shifts  him  to  the  strong  young 
shoulders  of  the  groom,  who  has  just  got  down  to  the 
fun. 

And  now,  while  they  are  climbing  the  pole  in  an- 
other part  of  the  field,  and  muzzling  in  a  flour-tub  in 
another,  the  old  farmer  whose  house,  as  has  been  said, 
overlooks  the  field,  and  who  is  master  of  the  revels, 
gets  up  the  steps  on  to  the  stage,  and  announces  to  all 
whom  it  may  concern  that  a  half-sovereign  in  money 
would  be  forthcoming  for  the  old  gamester  who  breaks 
most  heads ;  to  which  the  squire  and  he  have  added  a 
new  hat. 

The  amount  of  the  prize  is  sufficient  to  stimulate  the 
men  of  the  immediate  neighborhood,  but  not  enough 
to  bring  any  very  high  talent  from  a  distance  j  so  after  a 


32  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  i>Atg. 

glance  or  two  round,  a  tall  fellow,  who  is  a  clown  shep- 
herd, chucks  his  hat  on  to  the  stage  and  climbs  up  the 
steps  looking  rather  sheepish.  The  crowd  of  course 
first  cheer,  and  then  chaff  as  usual,  as  he  picks  up  his 
hat  and  begins  handling  the  sticks  to  see  which  will 
suit  him. 

"  Wooy,  Willum  Smith,  thee  cans't  plaay  wi'  he 
arra  daay,"  says  his  companion  to  the  blacksmith's  ap- 
prentice, a  stout  young  fellow  of  nineteen  or  twenty. 
Willum's  sweetheart  is  in  the  "  veast "  somewhere,  and 
has  strictly  enjoined  him  not  to  get  his  head  broke  at 
back-swording,  on  pain  of  her  highest  displeasure ;  but 
as  she  is  not  to  be  seen  (the  women  pretend  not  to  like 
to  see  the  back-sword  play,  and  keep  away  from  the 
stage),  and  as  his  hat  is  decidedly  getting  old,  he  chucks 
it  on  to  the  stage,  and  follows  himself,  hoping  that  he 
will  only  have  to  break  other  people's  heads,  or  that 
after  all  Rachel  won't  really  mind. 

Then  follows  the  greasy  cap  lined  with  fur  of  a  half- 
gypsy,  poaching,  loafing  fellow,  who  travels  the  Yale 
not  for  much  good,  I  fancy : 

"  Full  twenty  times  was  Peter  feared 
For  once  that  Peter  was  respected  " 

in  fact.  And  then  three  or  four  other  hats,  including 
the  glossy  castor  of  Joe  Willis,  the  self-elected  and 
would-be  champion  of  the  neighborhood,  a  well-to-do 
young  butcher  of  twenty-eight  or  thereabouts,  and  a 
great  strapping  fellow,  with  his  full  allowance  of  blus- 
ter. This  is  a  capital  show  of  gamesters,  considering 
the  amount  of  the  prize ;  so  while  they  are  picking 
their  sticks  and  drawing  their  lots,  I  think  I  must  tell 
you,  as  shortly  as  I  can,  how  the  noble  old  game  of 
back-sword  is  played ;  for  it  is  sadly  gone  out  of  late, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  33 

even  in  the  Vale,  and  maybe  you  have  never  seen 
it. 

The  weapon  is  a  good  stout  ash-stick  with  a  large 
basket  handle,  heavier,  and  somewhat  shorter  than  a 
common  single-stick.  The  players  are  called  "old 
gamesters  " — why,  I  can't  tell  you — and  their  object  is 
simply  to  break  one  another's  heads :  for  the  moment 
that  blood  runs  an  inch  anywhere  above  the  eyebrow 
the  old  gamester  to  whom  it  belongs  is  beaten,  and  has 
to  stop.  A  very  slight  blow  with  the  sticks  will  fetch 
blood,  so  that  it  is  by  no  means  a  punishing  pastime,  if 
the  men  don't  play  on  purpose,  and  savagely,  at  the 
body  and  arms  of  their  adversaries.  The  old  gamester 
going  into  action  only  takes  off  his  hat  and  coat,  and 
arms  himself  with  a  stick  :  he  then  loops  the  fingers  of 
his  left  hand  in  a  handkerchief  or  strap  which  he 
fastens  round  his  left  leg,  measuring  the  length,  so  that 
when  he  draws  it  tight  with  his  left  elbow  in  the  air, 
that  elbow  shall  just  reach  as  high  as  his  crown.  Thus 
you  see,  so  long  as  he  chooses  to  keep  his  left  elbow  up, 
regardless  of  cuts,  he  has  a  perfect  guard  for  the  left 
side  of  his  head.  Then  he  advances  his  right  hand 
above  and  in  front  of  his  head,  holding  his  stick  across 
so  that  its  point  projects  an  inch  or  two  over  his  left 
elbow,  and  thus  his  whole  head  is  completely  guarded, 
and  he  faces  his  man  armed  in  like  manner,  and  they 
stand  some  three  feet  apart,  often  nearer,  and  feint, 
and  strike,  and  return  at  one  another's  heads,  until  one 
cries  "  hold,"  or  blood  flows  ;  in  the  first  case  they  are 
allowed  a  minute's  time,  and  go  on  again  ;  in  the  latter, 
another  pair  of  gamesters  are  called  on.  If  good  men 
are  playing,  the  quickness  of  the  returns  is  marvelous ; 
you  hear  the  rattle  like  that  a  boy  makes  drawing 
his  stick  along  palings,  only  heavier,  and  the  closeness 


34  foM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

of  the  men  in  action  to  one  another  gives  it  a  strange 
interest  and  makes  a  spell  at  black-swording  a  very 
noble  sight. 

They  are  all  suited  now  with  sticks,  and  Joe  Willis 
and  the  gypsy  man  have  drawn  the  first  lot.  So  the 
rest  lean  against  the  rails  of  the  stage,  and  Joe  and  the 
dark  man  meet  in  the  middle,  the  boards  having  been 
strewed  with  sawdust ;  Joe's  white  shirt  and  spotless 
drab  breeches  and  boots  contrasting  with  the  gypsy's 
coarse  blue  shirt  and  dirty  green  velveteen  breeches 
and  leather  gaiters.  Joe  is  evidently  turning  up  his 
nose  at  the  other,  and  half  insulted  at  having  to  break 
his  head. 

The  gypsy  is  a  tough  active  fellow,  but  not  very 
skillful  with  his  weapon,  so  that  Joe's  weight  and 
strength  tell  in  a  minute ;  he  is  too  heavy  metal  for 
him  :  whack,  whack,  whack,  come  his  blows,  breaking 
down  the  gypsy's  guard,  and  threatening  to  reach  his 
head  every  moment.  There  it  is  at  last — "Blood, 
blood!"  shout  the  spectators,  as  a  thin  stream  oozes 
out  slowly  from  the  roots  of  the  hair,  and  the  umpire 
calls  to  them  to  stop.  The  gypsy  scowls  at  Joe  under 
his  brows  in  no  pleasant  manner,  while  master  Joe 
swaggers  about,  and  makes  attitudes,  and  thinks  him- 
self, and  shows  that  he  thinks  himself,  the  greatest 
man  in  the  field. 

Then  follow  several  stout  sets  to  between  the  other 
candidates  for  the  new  hat,  and  at  last  come  the  shep- 
herd and  Willum  Smith.  This  is  the  crack  set-to  of 
the  day.  They  are  both  in  famous  wind,  and  there  is 
no  crying  "  hold  ;  "  the  shepherd  is  an  old  hand  and  up 
to  all  the  dodges;  he  tries  them  one  after  another, 
and  very  nearly  gets  at  Willum's  head  by  coming  in 
near,  and  playing  over  his  guard  at  the  half-stick,  but 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  35 

somehow  W ilium  blunders  through,  catching  the  stick 
on  his  shoulders,  neck,  sides,  every  now  and  then,  any- 
where but  on  his  head,  and  his  returns  are  heavy  and 
straight,  and  he  is  the  youngest  gamester  and  a  favor- 
ite in  the  parish,  and  his  gallant  stand  brings  down 
shouts  and  cheers,  and  the  knowing  ones  think  he'll 
win  if  he  keeps  steady,  and  Tom  on  the  groom's 
shoulder  holds  his  hands  together,  and  can  hardly 
breathe  for  excitement. 

Alas  for  Willum !  his  sweetheart  getting  tired  of 
female  companionship  has  been  hunting  the  booths  to 
see  where  he  can  have  got  to,  and  now  catches  sight 
of  him  on  the  stage  in  full  combat.  She  flushes  and 
turns  pale ;  her  old  aunt  catches  hold  of  her  saying  : 
" Bless' ee,  child,  doan't'ee  go  a'nigst  it;"  but  she 
breaks  away  and  runs  toward  the  stage  calling  his 
name.  Willum  keeps  up  his  guard  stoutly,  but  glances 
for  a  moment  toward  the  voice.  No  guard  will  do  it, 
Willum,  without  the  eye.  The  shepherd  steps  round 
and  strikes,  and  the  point  of  his  stick  just  grazes 
Willum's  forehead,  fetching  off  the  skin,  and  the 
blood  flows,  and  the  umpire  cries  "Hold,"  and  poor 
Willum's  chance  is  up  for  the  day.  But  he  takes  it 
very  well,  and  puts  on  his  old  hat  and  coat,  and  goes 
down  to  be  scolded  by  his  sweetheart,  and  led  away 
out  of  mischief.  Tom  hears  him  say  coaxingly,  as  he 
walks  off : 

"  Now  doan't'ee,  Rachel !  I  wouldn't  ha'  done  it, 
only  I  wanted  summut  to  buy'ee  a  fairing  wi',  and  I  be 
as  vlush  o'  money  as  a  twod  o'  veathers." 

"  Thee  mind  what  I  tells'ee,"  rejoins  Rachel,  saucily, 
"  and  doan't'ee  kep  blethering  about  fairings."  Tom 
resolves  in  his  heart  to  give  Willum  the  remainder  of 
his  two  shillings  after  the  bacjs-s  wording, 

'   *  1    / 


36  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Joe  Willis  has  all  the  luck  to-day.  His  next  bout 
ends  in  an  easy  victory,  while  the  shepherd  has  a  tough 
job  to  break  his  second  head ;  and  when  Joe  and  the 
shepherd  meet,  and  the  whole  circle  expect  and  hope  to 
see  him  get  a  broken  crown,  the  shepherd  slips  in  the 
first  round  and  falls  against  the  rails,  hurting  himself 
so  that  the  old  farmer  will  not  let  him  go  on,  much  as 
he  wishes  to  try ;  and  that  impostor  Joe  (for  he  is  cer- 
tainly not  the  best  man)  struts  and  swaggers  about  the 
stage  the  conquering  gamester,  though  he  hasn't  had 
five  minutes  really  trying  play. 

Joe  takes  the  new  hat  in  his  hand,  and  puts  the 
money  inte  it,  and  then  as  if  a  thought  strikes  him 
and  he  doesn't  think  his  victory  quite  acknowledged 
clown  below,  walks  to  each  face  of  the  stage,  and  looks 
down,  shaking  the  money,  and  chaffing,  as  how  he'll 
stake  hat  and  money  and  another  half-sovereign  "  agin 
any  gamester  as  hasn't  played  already."  Cunning  Joe, 
he  thus  gets  rid  of  Willum  and  the  shepherd,  who  is 
quite  fresh  again. 

No  one  seems  to  like  the  offer,  and  the  umpire  is 
just  coming  down,  when  a  queer  old  hat,  something  like 
a  doctor  of  divinity's  shovel,  is  chucked  on  to  the  stage, 
and  an  elderly  quiet  man  steps  out,  who  has  been 
watching  the  play,  saying  he  should  like  to  cross  a 
stick  wi'  the  prodigalish  young  chap. 

The  crowd  cheer  and  begin  to  chaff  Joe,  who  turns 
up  his  nose  and  swaggers  across  to  the  sticks.  "Imp'- 
dent  old  wosbird,"  says  he,  "  I'll  break  the  bald  head 
on  un  to  the  truth." 

The  old  boy  is  very  bald  certainly,  and  the  blood 
will  show  fast  enough  if  you  can  touch  him,  Joe. 

He  takes  off  his  long  flapped  coat,  and  stands  up  in 
a  long  flapped  waistcoat,  which  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  BAYS.  37 

might  have  worn  when  it  was  new,  picks  out  a  stick, 
and  is  ready  for  Master  Joe,  who  loses  no  time,  but 
begins  his  old  game,  whack,  whack,  whack,  trying  to 
break  down  the  old  man's  guard  by  sheer  s.trength. 
But  it  won't  do — he  catches  every  blow  close  by  the 
basket,  and  though  he  is  rather  stiff  in  his  returns, 
after  a  minute  walks  Joe  about  the  stage,  and  is  clearly 
a  staunch  old  gamester.  Joe  now  comes  in,  and 
making  the  most  of  his  height,  tries  to  get  over  the 
old  man's  guard  at  half-stick,  by  which  he  takes  a 
smart  blow  in  the  ribs  and  another  on  the  elbow  and 
nothing  more.  And  now  he  loses  wind  and  begins  to 
puff,  and  the  crowd  laugh  :  "  Cry  *  hold,'  Joe — thee'st 
met  thy  match  ! "  Instead  of  taking  good  advice  and 
getting  his  wind,  Joe  loses  his  temper,  and  strikes  at 
the  old  man's  body. 

"Blood,  blood!"  shout  the  crowd,  "Joe's  head's 
broke ! " 

Who'd  have  thought  it  ?  How  did  it  come  ?  That 
body-blow  left  Joe's  head  unguarded  for  a  moment, 
and  with  one  turn  of  the  wrist  the  old  gentleman  has 
picked  a  neat  little  bit  of  skin  off  the  middle  of  his 
forehead,  and  though  he  won't  believe  it,  and  hammers 
on  for  three  more  blows  despite  of  the  shouts,  is  then 
convinced  by  the  blood  trickling  into  his  eye.  Poor 
Joe  is  sadly  crestfallen,  and  fumbles  in  his  pocket  for 
the  other  half-sovereign,  but  the  old  gamester  won't 
have  it.  "  Keep  thy  money,  man,  and  gi's  thy  hand," 
says  he,  and  they  shake  hands ;  but  the  old  gamester 
gives  the  new  hat  to  the  shepherd,  and,  soon  after,  the 
half-sovereign  to  Willum,  who  thereout  decorates  his 
sweetheart  with  ribbons  to  his  heart's  content. 

"  Who  can  a  be  ? "  "  Wur  do  a  come  from  ? "  asked  the 
crowd.  And  it  soon  flies  about  that  the  old  west- 


38  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

country  champion,  who  played  a  tie  with  Shaw  the 
life-guardsman  at  "Vizes"  twenty  years  before,  has 
broken  Joe  Willis'  crown  for  him. 

How  my  country  fair  is  spinning  out !  I  see  I  must 
skip  the  wrestling,  and  the  boys  jumping  in  sacks,  and 
rolling  wheelbarrows  blindfolded:  and  the  donkey- 
race,  and  the  fight  which  arose  thereout,  marring  the 
otherwise  peaceful  "  veast,"  and  the  frightened  scurry- 
ing away  of  the  female  feast-goers,  and  descent  of 
Squire  Brown,  summoned  by  the  wife  of  one  of  the 
combatants  to  stop  it ;  which  he  wouldn't  start  to  do 
till  he  had  got  on  his  top-boots.  Tom  is  carried  away 
by  old  Benjy,  dog-tired,  and  surfeited  with  pleasure,  as 
the  evening  comes  on  and  the  dancing  begins  in  the 
booths ;  and  though  Willum  and  Rachel  in  her  new 
ribbons  and  many  another  good  lad  and  lass  don't 
come  away  just  yet,  but  have  a  good  step  out,  and  en- 
joy it,  and  get  no  harm  thereby,  yet  we,  being  sober 
folk,  will  just  stroll  away  up  through  the  churchyard, 
and  by  the  old  yew-tree;  and  get  a  quiet  dish  of  tea 
and  a  parle  with  our  gossips,  as  the  steady  ones  of  our 
village  do,  and  so  to  bed. 

That's  the  fair  true  sketch,  as  far  as  it  goes,  of  one 
of  the  larger  village  feasts  in  the  Vale  of  Berks,  when 
I  was  a  little  boy.  They  are  much  altered  for  the 
worse,  I  am  told.  I  haven't  been  at  one  these  twenty 
years,  but  I  have  been  at  the  statute  fairs  in  some 
west-country  towns,  where  servants  are  hired,  and 
greater  abominations  cannot  be  found.  What  village 
feasts  have  come  to,  I  fear,  in  many  cases,  may  be 
read  in  the  pages  of  "  Yeast"  (though  I  never  saw  one 
so  bad — thank  God  !). 

Do  you  want  to  know  why  ?  It  is  because,  as  I  said 
before,  gentlefolk  and  farmers  have  left  off  joining  or 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  39 

taking  an  interest  in  them.  They  don't  either  sub- 
scribe to  the  prizes,  or  go  down  and  enjoy  the  fun. 

Is  this  a  good  or  a  bad  sign  ?  I  hardly  know.  Bad, 
sure  enough,  if  it  only  arises  from  the  further  separa- 
tion of  classes  consequent  on  twenty  years  of  buying 
cheap  and  selling  dear,  and  its  accompanying  over- 
work ;  or  because  our  sons  and  daughters  have  their 
hearts  in  London  club-life,  or  so-called  society,  instead 
of  in  the  old  English  home  duties :  because  farmers' 
sons  are  apeing  fine  gentlemen,  and  farmers'  daughters 
caring  more  to  make  bad  foreign  music  than  good 
English  cheeses.  Good,  perhaps,  if  it  be  that  the 
time  for  the  old  "  veast "  has  gone  by,  that  it  is  no 
longer  the  healthy  sound  expression  of  English  country 
holiday-making ;  that,  in  fact,  we  as  a  nation  have  got 
beyond  it,  and  are  in  a  transition  state,  feeling  for  and 
soon  likely  to  find  some  better  substitute. 

Only  I  have  just  got  this  to  say  before  I  quit  the 
text.  Don't  let  reformers  of  any  sort  think  that  they 
are  going  really  to  lay  hold  of  the  working  boys  and 
young  men  of  England  by  any  educational  grapnel 
whatever,  which  hasn't  some  bond  fide  equivalent  for 
the  games  of  the  old  country  "  veast "  in  it ;  some- 
thing to  put  in  the  place  of  the  black-swording  and 
wrestling  and  racing ;  something  to  try  the  muscles  of 
men's  bodies,  and  the  endurance  of  their  hearts,  and  to 
make  them  rejoice  in  their  strength.  In  all  the  new- 
fangled comprehensive  plans  which  I  see,  this  is  all 
left  out :  and  the  consequence  is  that  your  great  Me- 
chanics' Institutes  end  in  intellectual  priggism,  and 
your  Christian  Young  Men's  Societies  in  religious 
Pharisaism. 

"Well,  well,  we  must  bide  our  time.  Life  isn't  all 
beer  and  skittles— but  beer  a.nd  skittles,  or  something 


40  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

better  of  the  same  sort,  must  form  a  good  part  of  every 
Englishman's  education.  If  I  could  only  drive  this 
into  the  heads  of  you  rising  parliamentary  lords,  and 
young  swells  who  "  have  your  ways  made  for  you," 
as  the  saying  is — you,  who  frequent  palaver  houses 
and  west-end  clubs,  waiting  always  ready  to  strap 
yourselves  on  to  the  back  of  poor  dear  old  John, 
as  soon  as  the  present  used-up  lot  (your  fathers  and 
uncles),  who  sit  there  on  the  great  parliamentary- 
majorities'  pack-saddle,  and  make  belief  they're  guid- 
ing him  with  their  red-tape  bridle,  tumble,  or  have  to 
be  lifted  off ! 

I  don't  think  much  of  you  yet — I  wish  I  could ; 
though  you  do  go  talking,  and  lecturing  up  and  down 
the  country  to  crowded  audiences,  and  are  busy  with 
all  sorts  of  philanthropic  intellectualism,  and  circulat- 
ing libraries  and  museums,  and  Heaven  only  knows 
what  besides ;  and  try  to  make  us  think,  through  news- 
paper reports,  that  you  are,  even  as  we,  of  the  work- 
ing classes.  But,  bless  your  hearts,  we  "ain't  so 
green,"  though  lots  of  us  of  all  sorts  toady  you  enough 
certainly,  and  try  to  make  you  think  so. 

I'll  tell  you  what  to  do  now  :  instead  of  all  this 
trumpeting  and  fuss,  which  is  only  the  old  parliamentary 
majority  dodge  over  again — just  you  go  each  of  you 
(you've  plenty  of  time  for  it,  if  you'll  only  give  up 
t'other  line),  and  quietly  make  three  or  four  friends, 
real  friends,  among  us.  You'll  find  a  little  trouble  in 
getting  at  the  right  sort,  because  such  birds  don't  come 
lightly  to  your  lure — but  found  they  may  be.  Take, 
say,  two  out  of  the  professions,  lawyer,  parson,  doctor— 
which  you  will;  one  out  of  trade,  and  three  or  four 
out  of  the  working  classes — tailors,  engineers,  carpen- 
ters, engravers — there's  plenty  of  choice.  Let  them  be 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  41 

men  of  your  own  ages,  mind,  and  ask  them  to  your 
homes ;  introduce  them  to  your  wives  and  sisters,  and 
get  introduced  to  theirs  ;  give  them  good  dinners,  and 
talk  to  them  about  what  is  really  at  the  bottom  of  your 
heart,  and  box,  and  run,  and  row  with  them,  when  you 
have  a  chance.  Do  all  this  honestly  as  man  to  man, 
and  by  the  time  you  come  to  ride  old  John,  you'll  be 
able  to  do  something  more  than  sit  on  his  back,  and 
may  feel  his  mouth  with  some  stronger  bridle  than  a 
red-tape  one. 

Ah,  if  you  only  would !  But  you  have  got  too  far 
out  of  the  right  rut,  I  fear.  Too  much  over  civilization 
and  the  deceitfulness  of  riches.  It  is  easier  for  a 
camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle.  More's  the 
pity.  I  never  came  across  but  two  of  you,  who  could 
value  a  man  wholly  and  solely  for  what  was  in  him ; 
who  thought  themselves  verily  and  indeed  of  the  same 
flesh  and  blood  as  John  Jones  the  attorney's  clerk,  and 
Bill  Smith  the  costermonger  and  could  act  as  if  they 
thought  so. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SUNDRY  WARS  AND    ALLIANCES. 

POOR  old  Benjy,  the  "  rheuraatiz  "  has  much  to  an- 
swer for  all  through  English  country  sides,  but  it  never 
played  a  scurvier  trick  than  in  laying  thee  by  the 
heels,  when  thou  wast  yet  in  a  green  old  age.  The 
enemy,  which  had  long  been  carrying  on  a  sort  of 
border  warfare  and  trying  his  strength  against  Benjy's 
on  the  battle-field,  of  his  hands  and  legs,  now,  muster- 
ing all  his  forces  began  laying  siege  to  the  citadel,  and 
overunning  the  whole  country.  Benjy  was  seized  in 
the  back  and  loins;  and  though  he  made  strong  and 
brave  fight,  it  was  soon  clear  enough  that  all  which 
could  be  beaten  of  poor  old  Benjy  would  have  to  give 
in  before  long. 

It  was  as  much  as  he  could  do  now,  with  the  help  of 
his  big  stick  and  frequent  stops,  to  hobble  down  to  the 
canal  with  Master  Tom,  and  bait  his  hook  fo'r  him,  and 
sit  and  watch  his  angling,  telling  him  quaint  old  coun- 
try stories ;  and  when  Tom  had  no  sport,  and  detect- 
ing a  rat  some  hundred  yards  or  so  olf  along  the  bank, 
would  rush  off  with  Toby  the  turnspit  terrier,  his 
other  faithful  companion,  in  bootless  pursuit,  he  might 
have  tumbled  in  and  been  drowned  twenty  times  over 
before  Benjy  could  have  got  near  him. 

Cheery  and  unmindful  of  himself  as  Benjy  was,  this 
loss  of  locomotive  power  bothered  him  greatly.  He 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS.*  43 

had  got  a  hew  object  in  his  old  age,  and  was  just  be- 
ginning to  think  himself  useful  again  in  the  world.  He 
feared  much  too  lest  Master  Tom  should  fall  back  again 
into  the  hands  of  Charity  and  the  women.  So  he  tried 
everything  he  could  think  of  to  get  set  up.  He  even 
went  an  expedition  to  the  dwelling  of  one  of  those 
queer  mortals,  who — say  what  we  will,  and  reason 
how  we  will — do  cure  simple  people  of  diseases  of  one 
kind  or  another  without  the  aid  of  physic ;  and  so  get 
to  themselves  the  reputation  of  using  charms,  and  in- 
spire for  themselves  and  their  dwellings  great  respect, 
not  to  say  fear,  among  a  simple  folk  such  as  the 
dwellers  in  the  Yale  of  White  Horse.  Where  this  pow- 
er, or  whatever  else  it  may  be,  descends  upon  the  shoul- 
ders of  a  man  whose  ways  are  not  straight,  he  becomes 
a  nuisance  to  the  neighborhood ;  a  receiver  of  stolen 
goods,  giver  of  love  potions,  and  deceiver  of  silly 
women ;  the  avowed  enemy  of  law  and  order,  of  jus- 
tices of  the  peace,  headboroughs  and  gamekeepers. 
Such  a  man  in  fact  as  was  recently  caught  tripping, 
and  deservedly  dealt  with  by  the  Leeds  justices,  for 
seducing  a  girl  who  had  come  to  him  to  get  back  a 
faithless  lover,  and  has  been  convicted  of  bigamy  since 
then.  Sometimes,  however,  they  are  of  quite  a  differ- 
ent stamp,  men  who  pretend  to  nothing,  and  are  with 
difficulty  persuaded  to  exercise  their  occult  arts  in  the 
simplest  cases. 

Of  this  latter  sort  was  old  Farmer  Ives,  as  he  was 
called,  the  "wise  man"  to  whom  Benjy  resorted  (tak- 
ing Tom  with  him  as  usual),  in  the  early  spring  of  the 
year  next  after  the  feast  described  in  the  last  chapter. 
Why  he  was  called  "  farmer "  I  cannot  say,  unless  it 
be  that  he  was  the  owner  of  a  cow,  a  pig  or  two,  and 
some  poultry,  which  he  maintained  on  about  an  acre 


44  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

of  land  inclosed  from  the  middle  of  a  wild  common, 
on  which  probably  his  father  had  squatted  before  lords 
of  manors  looked  as  keenly  after  their  rights  as  they 
do  now.  Here  he  had  lived  no  one  knew  how  long,  a 
solitary  man.  It  was  often  rumored  that  he  was  to  be 
turned  out  and  his  cottage  pulled  down,  but  somehow 
it  never  came  to  pass;  and  his  pigs  and  cow  went  graz- 
ing on  the  common,  and  his  geese  hissed  at  the  pas- 
sing children  and  at  the  heels  of  the  horse  of  my 
lord's  steward,  who  often  rode  by  with  a  covetous  eye 
on  the  enclosure,  still  unmolested.  His  dwelling 
was  some  miles  from  our  village  ;  so  Benjy,  who  was 
half  ashamed  of  his  errand,  and  wholly  unable  to  walk 
there,  had  to  exercise  much  ingenuity  to  get  the  means 
of  transporting  himself  and  Tom  thither  without  excit- 
ing suspicion.  However,  one  fine  May  morning  he 
managed  to  borrow  the  old  blind  pony  of  our  friend 
the  publican,  and  Tom  persuaded  Madam  Brown  to 
give  him  a  holiday  to  spend  with  old  Benjy,  and 
to  lend  them  the  squire's  light  cart,  stored  with  bread 
and  cold  meat  and  a  bottle  of  ale.  And  so  the  two  in 
high  glee  started  behind  old  Dobbin,  and  jogged  along 
the  deep-rutted  plashy  roads,  which  had  not  been 
mended  after  their  winter's  wear,  toward  the  dwelling 
of  the  wizard.  About  noon  they  passed  the  gate  which 
opened  on  to  the  large  common,  and  old  Dobbin  toiled 
slowly  up  the  hill,  while  Benjy  pointed  out  a  little  deep 
dingle  on  the  left,  out  of  which  welled  a  tiny  stream. 
As  they  crept  up  the  hill  the  tops  of  a  few  birch-trees 
came  in  sight,  and  blue  smoke  curling  up  through  their 
delicate  light  boughs ;  and  then  the  little  white  thatched 
home  and  patch  of  inclosed  ground  of  Farmer  Ives, 
lying  cradled  in  the  dingle,  with 'the  gay  gorse  common 
rising  behind  and  on  both  sides ;  while  in  front,  after 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  45 

traversing  a  gentle  slope,  the  eye  might  travel  for 
miles  and  miles  over  the  rich  vale.  They  now  left  the 
main  road  and  struck  into  a  green  tract  over  the  com- 
mon marked  lightly  with  wheel  and  horse-shoe,  which 
led  down  into  the  dingle  and  stopped  at  the  rough 
gate  of  Farmer  Ives.  Here  they  found  the  farmer,  an 
iron-gray  old  man,  with  a  bushy  eyebrow  and  strong 
acquiline  nose,  busied  in  one  of  his  vocations.  He  was 
a  horse  and  cow  doctor,  and  was  tending  a  sick  beast 
which  had  been  sent  up  to  be  cured.  Benjy  hailed 
him  as  an  old  friend,  and  he  returned  the  greeting 
cordially  enough,  looking  however  hard  for  a  moment 
both  at  Benjy  and  Tom,  to  see  whether  there  was 
more  in  their  visit  than  appeared  at  first  sight.  It  was 
a  work  of  some  difficulty  and  danger  for  Benjy  to 
reach  the  ground,  which  however  he  managed  to  do 
without  mishap ;  and  then  he  devoted  himself  to  un- 
harnessing Dobbin,  and  turning  him  out  for  a  graze 
("a  run."  one  could  not  say  of  that  virtuous  steed)  on 
the  common.  This  done,  he  extricated  the  cold  pro- 
visions from  the  cart,  and  they  entered  the  farmer's 
wicket;  and  he,  shutting  up  the  knife  with  which  he 
was  taking  maggots  out  of  the  cow's  back  and  sides, 
accompanied  them  toward  the  cottage.  A  big  old 
lurcher  got  up  slowly  from  the  door  stone,  stretching 
first  one  hind  leg  and  then  the  other,  and  taking  Tom's 
caresses  and  the  presence  of  Toby,  who  kept  however 
at  a  respectful  distance,  with  equal  indifference. 

"Us  be  come  to  pay'e  a  visit.  I've  a  been  long 
minded  to  do't  for  old  sake's  sake,  only  I  vinds  I 
dwont  get  about  now  as  I'd  use  to't.  I  be  so  plaguy 
bad  wi'  th'  rumatiz  in  my  back."  Benjy  paused,  in 
hopes  of  drawing  the  farmer  at  once  on  the  subject  of 
Jiis  ailment  without  further  direct  application, 


46  TOM   BROWN  S   SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"Ah,  I  see  as  you  bean't  quite  so  lissom  as  you  was," 
replied  the  farmer  with  a  grim  smile,  as  he  lifted  the 
latch  of  his  door ;  "  we  bean't  so  young  as  we  was, 
nother  on  us,  wuss  luck." 

The  farmer's  cottage  was  very  like  those  of  the  bet- 
ter class  of  peasantry  in  general.  A  snug  chimney  cor- 
ner with  two  seats,  and  a  small  carpet  on  the  hearth,  an 
old  flint  gun  and  a  pair  of  spurs  over  the  fireplace,  a 
dresser  with  shelves  on  which  some  bright  pewter  plates 
and  crockery  ware  were  arranged,  an  old  walnut  table, 
a  few  chairs  and  settles,  some  framed  samplers,  and  an 
old  print  or  two,  and  a  bookcase  with  some  dozen  vol- 
umes on  the  walls,  a  rack  with  flitches  of  bacon,  and 
other  stores  fastened  to  the  ceiling,  and  you  have  the 
best  part  of  the  furniture.  No  sign  of  occult  art  is  to 
be  seen,  unless  the  bundles  of  dried  herbs  hanging  to 
the  rack  and  in  the  ingle,  and  the  row  of  labelled 
vials  on  one  of  the  shelves,  betoken  it. 

Tom  played  about  with  some  kittens  who  occupied 
the  hearth,  and  with  a  goat  who  walked  demurely  in 
at  the  open  door,  while  their  host  and  Benjy  spread 
the  table  for  dinner — and  was  soon  engaged  in  conflict 
with  the  cold  meat,  to  which  he  did  much  honor.  The 
two  old  men's  talk  was  of  old  comrades  and  their 
deeds,  mute  inglorious  Miltons  of  the  Vale,  and  of  the 
doings  thirty  years  back — which  didn't  interest  him 
much,  except  when  they  spoke  of  the  making  of  the 
canal,  and  then  indeed  he  began  to  listen  with  all 
his  ears,  and  learned  to  his  no  small  wonder  that 
his  dear  and  wonderful  canal  had  not  been  there 
always — was  not  in  fact  so  old  as  Benjy  or  Farmer 
Ives,  which  caused  a  strange  commotion  in  his  small 
brain. 

After  dinner  Benjy  called  attention  to  a  wart  which 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS*  47 

Tom  had  on  the  knuckles  of  his  hand,  and  which  the 
family  doctor  had  been  trying  his  skill  on  without  suc- 
cess, and  begged  the  farmer  to  charm  it  away.  Farmer 
Ives  looked  at  it,  muttered  something  or  another  over 
it,  and  cut  some  notches  in  a  short  stick,  which  he 
handed  to  Benjy,  giving  him  instructions  for  cutting  it 
down  on  certain  days,  and  cautioning  Tom  not  to  med- 
dle with  the  wart  for  a  fortnight.  And  then  they 
strolled  out  and  sat  on  a  bench  in  the  sun  with  their 
pipes,  and  the  pigs  came  up  and  grunted  sociably 
and  let  Tom  scratch  them ;  and  the  farmer,  seeing 
how  he  liked  animals,  stood  up  and  held  his  arms  in 
the  air  and  gave  a  call,  which  brought  a  flock  of  pig- 
eons wheeling  and  dashing  through  the  birch-trees. 
They  settled  down  in  clusters  on  the  farmer's  arms 
and  shoulders,  making  love  to  him  and  scrambling 
over  one  another's  backs  to  get  to  his  face  ;  and  then 
he  threw  them  all  off,  and  they  fluttered  about  close 
by,  and  lighted  on  him  again  and  again  when  he  held 
up  his  arms.  All  the  creatures  about  the  place  were 
clean  and  fearless,  quite  unlike  their  relations  else- 
where ;  and  Tom  begged  to  be  taught  how  to  make 
all  the  pigs  and  cows  and  poultry  in  our  village 
tame,  at  which  the  farmer  only  gave  one  of  his  grim 
chuckles. 

It  wasn't  till  they  was  just  ready  to  go,  and  old 
Dobbin  was  harnessed,  that  Benjy  broached  the  sub- 
ject of  his  rheumatism  again,  detailing  his  symptoms 
one  by  one.  Poor  old  boy !  He  hoped  the  farmer 
could  charm  it  away  as  easily  as  he  could  Tom's  wart, 
and  was  ready  with  equal  faith  to  put  another  notched 
stick  into  his  other  pocket,  for  the  cure  of  his  own  ail- 
ments. The  physician  shook  his  head,  but  nevertheless 
produced  a  bottle  and  handed  it  to  Benjy  with  instruc- 


48  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  t>AYS. 

tions  for  use.  "  Not  as  't'll  do'e  much  good— least- 
ways I  be  af eared  not,"  shading  his  eyes  with  his 
hand  and  looking  up  at  them  in  the  cart ;  "  there's  only 
one  thing  as  I  knows  on,  as'll  cure  old  folks  like  you 
and  I  'o  th'  rhumatis." 

"Wot  be  that  then,  farmer?  "  inquired  Benjy. 

"Churchyard  mold,"  said  the  old  iron-gray  man, 
with  another  chuckle.  And  so  they  said  their  good- 
byes and  went  their  ways  home.  Tom's  wart  was 
gone  in  a  fortnight,  but  not  so  Benjy's  rheumatism, 
which  laid  him  by  the  heels  more  and  more.  And 
though  Tom  still  spent  many  an  hour  with  him,  as  he 
sat  on  a  bench  in  the  sunshine,  or  by  the  chimney 
corner  when  it  was  cold,  he  soon  had  to  seek  elsewhere 
for  his  regular  companions. 

Tom  had  been  accustomed  often  to  accompany  his 
mother  in  her  visits  to  the  cottages,  and  had  thereby 
made  acquaintance  with  many  of  the  village  boys  of 
his  own  age.  There  was  Job  Kudkin,  son  of  widow 
Rudkin,  the  most  bustling  woman  in  the  parish.  How 
she  could  ever  have  had  such  a  stolid  boy  as  Job  for  a 
child  must  always  remain  a  mystery.  The  tirst  time 
Tom  went  to  their  cottage  with  his  mother  Job  was 
not  in  doors,  but  he  entered  soon  after,  and  stood  with 
both  hands  in  his  pockets  staring  at  Tom.  Widow 
Eudkin  who  would  have  had  to  cross  Madam  to  get  at 
young  Hopeful— a  breach  of  good  manners  of  which 
she  was  wholly  incapable — began  a  series  of  pantomime 
signs,  which  only  puzzled  him,  and  at  last,  unable  to 
contain  herself  longer,  burst  out  with  "  Job !  Job ! 
where's  thy  cap  \ " 

"  What !  beant'e  on  ma'  head,  mother  ? "  replied  Job, 
slowly  extricating  one  hand  from  a  pocket  and  feeling 
for  the  article  in  question  ;  which  he  found  on  his  head 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  49 

Sure  enough,  and  left  there,  to  his  mother's  horror  and 
Tom's  great  delight. 

Then  there  was  poor  Jacob  Dodson,  the  half-witted 
boy,  who  ambled  about  cheerfully,  undertaking  mes- 
sages and  little  helpful  odds  and  ends  for  everyone, 
which,  however,  poor  Jacob  managed  always  hopelessly 
to  embrangle.  Everything  came  to  pieces  in  his  hands, 
and  nothing  would  stop  in  his  head.  They  nicknamed 
him  Jacob  Doodle-calf. 

But  above  all  there  was  Harry  Winburn,  the  quick- 
est and  best  boy  in  the  parish.  He  might  be  a  year 
older  than  Torn,  but  was  very  little  bigger,  and  he  was 
the  Crichton  of  our  village  boys.  He  could  wrestle 
and  climb  and  run  better  than  all  the  rest,  and  learned 
all  that  the  schoolmaster  could  teach  him  faster  than 
that  worthy  at  all  liked.  He  was  a  boy  to  be  proud  of, 
with  his  curly  brown  hair,  keen  gray  e}re,  straight  ac- 
tive figure,  and  little  ears  and  hands  and  feet,  "  as  fine 
as  a  lord's,"  as  Charity  remarked  to  Tom  one  day, 
talking  as  usual  great  nonsense.  Lords'  hands  and  ears 
and  feet  are  just  as  ugly  as  other  folks'  when  they  are 
children,  as  any  one  may  convince  themselves  if  they 
like  to  look.  Tight  boots  and  gloves,  and  doing 
nothing  with  them,  I  allow  make  a  difference  by  the 
time  they  are  twenty. 

Now  that  Benjy  was  laid  on  the  shelf,  and  his  young 
brothers  were  still  under  petticoat  government,  Tom, 
in  search  of  companions,  began  to  cultivate  the  village 
boys  generally,  more  and  more.  Squire  Brown,  be  it 
said,  was  a  true  blue  Tory  to  the  backbone,  and 
believed  honestly  that  the  powers  which  be  were 
ordained  of  God,  and  that  loyalty  and  steadfast  obedi- 
ence were  men's  first  duties.  Whether  it  were  in  con- 
sequence or  in  spite  of  his  political  creed,  I  do  not 


50  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

mean  to  give  an  opinion,  though  I  have  one ;  but  cer- 
tain it  is,  that  he  held  therewith  divers  social  principles 
not  generally  supposed  to  be  true  blue  in  color.  Fore- 
most of  these,  and  the  one  which  the  squire  loved 
to  propound  above  all  others,  was  the  belief  that  a 
man  is  to  be  valued  wholly  and  solely  for  that  which 
he  is  in  himself,  for  that  which  stands  up  in  the  four 
fleshly  walls  of  him,  apart  from  clothes,  rank,  fortune, 
and  all  externals  whatsoever.  Which  belief  I  take  to 
be  a  wholesome  corrective  of  all  political  opinions,  and, 
if  held  sincerely,  to  make  all  opinions  equally  harm- 
less, whether  they  be  blue,  red  or  green.  As  a  neces- 
sary corollary  to  this  belief,  Squire  Brown  held  fur- 
ther that  it  didn't  matter  a  straw  whether  his  son  as- 
sociated with  lords'  sons  or  plowmen's  sons,  provided 
they  were  brave  and  honest.  He  himself  had  played 
football  and  gone  bird's-nesting  with  the  farmers  whom 
he  met  at  vestry  and  the  laborers  who  tilled  their 
fields,  and  so  had  his  father  and  grandfather  with 
their  progenitors.  So  he  encouraged  Tom  in  his  in- 
timacy with  the  boys  of  the  village,  and  forwarded  it 
by  all  means  in  his  power,  and  gave  them  the  run  of  a 
close  for  a  playground,  and  provided  bats  and  balls 
and  a  football  for  their  sports. 

Our  village  was  blessed  among  other  things  with  a 
well-endowed  school.  The  building  stood  by  itself, 
apart  from  the  master's  house,  on  an  angle  of  ground 
where  three  roads  met ;  an  old  gray  stone  building 
with  a  steep  roof  and  mullioned  windows.  On  one  of 
the  opposite  angles  stood  Squire  Brown's  stables  and 
kennel,  with  their  backs  to  the  road,  over  which  tow- 
ered a  great  elm-tree ;  on  the  third  stood  the  village 
carpenter  and  wheelright's  large  open  shop,  and  his 
house  and  the  schoolmaster's,  with  long  low  eaves  un- 
der which  the  swallows  built  by  scores, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  51 

The  moment  Tom's  lessons  were  over,  he  would  now 
get  him  down  to  this  corner  by  the  stables,  and  watch 
till  the  boys  came  out  of  school.  He  prevailed  on  the 
groom  to  cut  notches  for  him  in  the  bark  of  the  elm, 
so  that  he  could  climb  into  the  lower  branches,  and 
there  he  would  sit  watching  the  school  door,  and  spec- 
ulating on  the  possibility  of  turning  the  elm  into  a 
dwelling-place  for  himself  and  friends  after  the  manner 
of  the  Swiss  Family  Robinson.  But  the  school  hours 
were  long  and  Tom's  patience  short,  so  that  soon  he 
began  to  descend  into  the  street,  and  go  and  peep  in  at 
the  school  door  and  the  wheelwright's  shop,  and  look 
out  for  something  to  while  away  the  time.  Now  the 
wheelwright  was  a  choleric  man,  and,  one  fine  after- 
noon, returning  from  a  short  absence,  found  Tom  occu- 
pied with  one  of  his  pet  adzes,  the  edge  of  which  was 
last  vanishing  under  our  hero's  care.  A  speedy  flight 
saved  Tom  from  all  but  one  sound  cuff  on  the  ears,  but 
he  resented  this  unjustifiable  interruption  of  his  first 
essays  at  carpentering,  and  still  more  the  further  pro- 
ceedings of  the  wheelwright,  who  cut  a  switch  and 
hung  it  over  the  door  of  his  workshop,  threatening  to 
use  it  upon  Tom  if  he  came  within  twenty  yards  of 
his  gate.  So  Tom,  to  retaliate,  commenced  a  war 
upon  the  swallows  who  dwelt  under  the  wheelwright's 
eaves,  whom  he  harassed  with  sticks  and  stones,  and 
being  fleeter  of  foot  than  his  enemy,  escaped  all  pun- 
ishment and  kept  him  in  perpetual  anger.  Moreover 
his  presence  about  the  school  door  began  to  incense 
the  master,  as  the  boys  in  that  neighborhood  neglected 
their  lessons  in  consequence :  and  more  than  once  he 
issued  into  the  porch,  rod  in  hand,  just  as  Tom  beat  a 
hasty  retreat.  And  he  and  the  wheelwright,  laying 
their  beads  together,  resolved  to  acquaint  the  squire 


52  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

with  Tom's  afternoon  occupations ;  but  in  order  to  do 
it  with  effect,  determined  to  take  him  captive  and  lead 
him  away  to  judgment  fresh  from  his  evil  doings. 
This  they  would  have  found  some  difficulty  in  doing, 
had  Tom  continued  the  war  single-handed,  or  rather 
single-footed,  for  he  would  have  taken  to  the  deepest 
part  of  Pebbly  Brook  to  escape  them  ;  but  like  other 
active  powers,  he  was  ruined  by  his  alliances.  Poor 
Jacob  Doodle-calf  could  not  go  to  school  with  the 
other  boys,  and  one  line  afternoon,  about  three  o'clock 
(the  school  broke  up  at  four),  Tom  found  him  ambling 
about  the  street,  and  pressed  him  into  a  visit  to  the 
school  porch.  Jacob,  always  ready  to  do  what  he  was 
asked,  consented,  and  the  two  stole  down  to  the  school 
together.  Tom  first  reconnoitered  the  wheelwright's 
shop,  and  seeing  no  signs  of  activity,  thought  all  safe 
in  that  quarter,  and  ordered  at  once  an  advance  of  all 
his  troops  upon  the  school  porch.  The  door  of  the 
school  was  ajar,  and  the  boys  seated  on  the  nearest 
bench  at  once  recognized  and  opened  a  correspondence 
with  the  invaders.  Tom  waxing  bold,  kept  putting 
his  head  into  the  school  and  making  faces  at  the  mas- 
ter when  his  back  was  turned.  Poor  Jacob  not  in  the 
least  comprehending  the  situation,  and  in  high  glee  at 
finding  himself  so  near  the  school,  which  he  had  never 
been  allowed  to  enter,  suddenly,  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm, 
pushed  by  Tom,  and  ambling  three  steps  into  the 
school,  stood  there,  looking  round  him  and  nodding 
with  a  self-approving  smile.  The  master,  who  was 
stooping  over  a  boy's  slate,  with  his  back  to  the  door, 
became  aware  of  something  unusual,  and  turned 
quickly  round.  Tom  rushed  at  Jacob,  and  began  drag- 
ging him  back  by  his  smock-frock,  and  the  master 
made  at  them,  scattering  forms  and  boys  in  lijs  career, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS.  53 

Even  now  they  might  have  escaped,  but  that  in  the 
porch,  barring  retreat,  appeared  the  crafty  wheel- 
wright, who  had  been  watching  all  their  proceedings. 
So  they  were  seized,  the  school  dismissed,  and  Tom 
and  Jacob  led  away  to  Squire  Brown  as  lawful  prize, 
the  boys  following  to  the  gate  in  groups,  and  specula- 
ting on  the  result. 

The  squire  was  very  angry  at  first,  but  the  inter- 
view, by  Tom's  pleading,  ended  in  a  compromise. 
Tom  was  not  to  go  near  the  school  till  three  o'clock, 
and  only  then  if  he  had  done  his  own  lessons  well,  in 
which  case  he  was  to  be  the  bearer  of  a  note  to  the 
master  from  Squire  Brown,  and  the  master  agreed  in 
such  case  to  release  ten  or  twelve  of  the  best  bo}'s  an 
hour  before  the  time  of  breaking  up,  to  go  off  and 
play  in  the  close.  The  wheelwright's  adzes  and 
swallows  were  to  be  forever  respected  ;  and  that  hero 
and  the  master  withdrew  to  the  servants'  hall,  to  drink 
the  squire's  health,  well  satisfied  with  their  day's 
work. 

The  second  act  of  Tom's  life  may  now  be  said  to 
have  begun.  The  war  of  independence  had  been  over 
for  some  time  :  none  of  the  women  now,  not  even  his 
mother's  maid,  dared  offer  to  help  him  in  dressing  or 
washing.  Between  ourselves,  he  had  often  at  first  to 
run  to  Benjy  in  an  unfinished  state  of  toilet ;  Charity 
and  the  rest  of  them  seemed  to  take  a  delight  in 
putting  impossible  buttons  and  ties  in  the  middle  of 
his  back  ;  but  he  would  have  gone  without  nether  in- 
teguments altogether  sooner  than  had  recourse  to 
female  valeting.  He  had  a  room  to  himself,  and  his 
father  gave  him  sixpence  a  week  pocket-money.  All 
this  he  had  achieved  by  Benjy's  advice  and  assistance 
But  now  he  had  conquered  another  step  in  life,  the 


54  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

step  which  all  real  boys  so  long  to  make :  he  had 
got  among  his  equals  in  age  and  strength,  and  could 
measure  himself  with  other  boys ;  he  lived  with  those 
whose  pursuits  and  wishes  and  ways  were  the  same  in 
kind  as  his  own. 

The  little  governess  who  had  lately  been  installed  in 
the  house  found  her  work  grow  wondrously  easy,  for 
Tom  slaved  at  his  lessons  in  order  to  make  sure  of  his 
note  to  the  schoolmaster.  So  there  were  very  few 
days  in  the  week  in  which  Tom  and  the  village  boys  were 
not  playing  in  their  close  by  three  o'clock.  Prisoner's 
base,  rounders,  high-cock-a-lorum,  cricket,  football,  he 
was  soon  initiated  into  the  delights  of  them  all ;  and 
though  most  of  the  boys  were  older  than  himself,  he 
managed  to  hold  his  own  very  well.  He  was  naturally 
active  and  strong,  and  quick  of  eye  and  hand,  and  had 
the  advantage  of  light  shoes  and  well-fitting  dress,  so 
that  in  a  short  time  he  could  run  and  jump  and  climb 
with  any  of  them. 

They  generally  finished  their  regular  games  half 
an  hour  or  so  before  tea-time,  and  then  began  trials  of 
skill  and  strength  in  many  ways.  Some  of  them 
would  catch  the  Shetland  pony  who  was  turned  out  in 
the  field,  and  get  two  or  three  together  on  his  back, 
and  the  little  rogue,  enjoying  the  fun,  would  gallop  off 
for  fifty  yards,  and  then  turn  round,  or  stop  short 
and  shoot  them  on  to  the  turf,  and  then  graze  quietly 
on  till  he  felt  another  load  ;  others  played  peg-top  or 
marbles,  while  a  few  of  the  bigger  ones  stood  up  for  a 
bout  at  wrestling.  Tom  at  first  only  looked  on  at  this 
pastime,  but  it  had  peculiar  attractions  for  him,  and  he 
could  not  long  keep  out  of  it.  Elbow  and  collar 
wrestling  as  practised  in  the  western  counties  was 
next  to  back-swording,  the  way  to  fame  for  the  youth 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  55 

of  the  Vale  :  and  all  the  boys  knew  the  rules  of  it,  and 
were  more  or  less  expert.  But  JobRudkin  and  Harry 
Winburn  were  the  stars,  the  former  stiff  and  sturdy, 
with  legs  like  small  towers,  the  latter  pliant  as  india- 
rubber,  and  quick  as  lightning.  Day  after  day  they 
stood  foot  to  foot,  and  offered  first  one  hand  and  then 
the  other,  and  grappled  and  closed  and  swayed  and 
strained,  till  a  well-aimed  crook  of  the  heel  or 
thrust  of  the  loin  took  effect,  and  a  fair  back-fall 
ended  the  matter.  And  Tom  watched  with  all  his 
eyes,  and  first  challenged  one  of  the  less  scientific, 
and  threw  him ;  and  so  one  by  one  wrestled  his  way 
up  to  the  leaders. 

Then  indeed  for  months  he  had  a  poor  time  of  it : 
it  was  not  long  indeed  before  he  could  manage  to  keep 
his  legs  against  Job,  for  that  hero  was  slow  of  offense, 
and  gained  his  victories  chiefly  by  allowing  others  to 
throw  themselves  against  his  immovable  legs  and 
loins.  But  Harry  Winburn  was  undeniably  his 
master  ;  from  the  first  clutch  of  hands  when  they  stood 
up,  down  to  the  last  trip  which  sent  him  on  his  back 
on  the  turf,  he  felt  that  Harry  knew  more  and  could 
do  more  than  he.  Luckily,  Harry's  bright  uncon- 
sciousness, and  Tom's  natural  good  temper,  kept  them 
from  ever  quarreling  ;  and  so  Tom  worked  on  and  on, 
and  trod  more  and  more  nearly  on  Harry's  heels,  and 
at  last  mastered  all  the  dodges  and  falls  except  one. 
This  one  was  Harry's  own  particular  invention  and 
pet ;  he  scarcely  ever  used  it  except  when  hard  pressed, 
but  then  out  it  came,  and  as  sure  as  it  did,  over  went 
poor  Tom.  He  thought  about  that  fall  at  his  meals, 
in  his  walks,  when  he  lay  awake  in  bed,  in  his  dreams 
—but  all  to  no  purpose ;  until  Harry  one  day  in  his 
open  way  suggested  to  him  how  he  thought  it  should 


56  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

be  met,  and  in  a  week  from  that  time  the  boys  were 
equal,  save  only  the  slight  difference  of  strength  in 
Harry's  favor  which  some  extra  ten  months  of  age 
gave.  Tom  had  often  afterward  reason  to  be  thankful 
for  that  early  drilling,  and  above  all  for  having  mas- 
tered Harry  Winburn's  fall. 

Besides  their  home  games,  on  Saturdays  the  boys 
would  wander  all  over  the  neighborhood ;  sometimes 
to  the  downs,  or  up  to  the  camp,  where  they  cut  their 
initials  out  in  the  springy  turf,  and  watched  the  hawks 
soaring,  and  the  "  peert "  bird,  as  Harry  Winburn 
called  the  gray  plover,  gorgeous  in  his  wedding  feath- 
ers ;  and  so  home,  racing  down  the  Manger  with  many 
a  roll  among  the  thistles,  or  through  Uffington-wood 
to  watch  the  fox  cubs  playing  in  the  green  rides; 
sometimes  to  Rosy  Brook,  to  cut  long  whispering  reeds 
which  grew  there,  to  make  pan-pipes  of ;  sometimes  to 
Moor  Mills  where  was  a  piece  of  old  forest  land,  with 
short  browsed  turf  and  tufted  brambly  thickets 
stretching  under  the  oaks,  among  which  rumor  de- 
clared that  a  raven,  last  of  his  race,  still  lingered ; 
or  to  the  sand-hills,  in  vain  quest  of  rabbits ;  and  bird's- 
nesting,  in  the  season,  anywhere  and  everywhere. 

The  few  neighbors  of  the  squire's  own  rank  every 
now  and  then  would  shrug  their  shoulders  as  they 
drove  or  rode  by  a  party  of  boys  with  Tom  in  the 
middle,  carrying  along  bulrushes  or  whispering  reeds, 
or  great  bundles  of  cowslip  and  meadow-sweet,  or 
young  starlings  or  magpies,  or  other  spoil  of  wood, 
brook,  or  meadow ;  and  Lawyer  Red-tape  might  mut- 
ter to  Squire  Straightback  at  the  Board,  that  no  good 
would  come  of  the  young  Browns,  if  they  were  let 
run  wild  with  all  the  dirty  village  bo\s,  whom  the  best 
farmer's  sons  even  would  not  play  with.  And  the 


TOM  BBOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  57 

squire  might  reply  with  a  shake  of  his  head,  that  his 
sons  only  mixed  with  their  equals,  and  never  went  into 
the  village  without  the  governess  or  a  footman.  But, 
luckily,  Squire  Brown  was  full  as  stiff-backed  as  his 
neighbors,  and  so  went  on  his  own  way  ;  and  Tom  and 
his  younger  brothers,  as  they  grew  up,  went  on  play- 
ing with  the  village  boys,  without  the  idea  of  equality 
or  inequality  (except  in  wrestling,  running,  and  climb- 
ing) ever  entering  their  heads,  as  it  doesn't  till  it's  put 
there  by  Jack  Nastys  or  fine  ladies'  maids. 

I  don't  mean  to  say  it  would  be  the  case  in  all  vil- 
lages, but  it  certainly  was  so  in  this  one ;  the  village 
boys  were  full  as  manly  and  honest,  and  certainly 
purer,  than  those  in  a  higher  rank;  and  Tom  got  more 
harm  from  his  equals  in  his  first  fortnight  at  a  private 
school,  where  he  went  when  he  was  nine  years  old, 
than  he  had  from  his  village  friends  from  the  day  he 
left  Charity's  apron-strings. 

Great  was  the  grief  among  the  village  school  boys 
when  Tom  drove  off  with  the  squire,  one  August 
morning,  to  meet  the  coach  on  his  way  to  school.  Each 
of  them  had  given  him  some  little  present  of  the  best 
that  he  had,  and  his  small  private  box  was  full  of  peg- 
tops,  white  marbles  (called  "  alley-taws  "  in  the  Vale), 
screws,  birds'  eggs,  whip-cord,  Jew's  harps,  and  other 
miscellaneous  boys'  wealth.  Poor  Jacob  Doodle-calf, 
in  floods  of  tears,  had  pressed  upon  him  with  splutter- 
ing earnestness  his  lame  pet  hedgehog  (he  had  always 
some  poor  broken-down  beast  or  bird  by  him) ;  but 
this  Tom  had  been  obliged  to  refuse  by  the  squire's 
order.  He  had  given  them  all  a  great  tea  under  the 
big  elm  in  their  playground,  for  which  Madam  Brown 
had  supplied  the  biggest  cake  ever  seen  in  our  village ; 
and  Tom  was  really  as  sorry  to  leave  them  as  they  to 


58  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

lose  him,  but  his  sorrow  was  not  unmixed  with  the 
pride  and  excitement  of  making  a  new  step  in  life. 

And  this  feeling  carried  him  through  his  first  part- 
ing with  his  mother  better  than  could  have  been  ex- 
pected. Their  love  was  as  fair  and  whole  as  human 
love  can  be,  perfect  self-sacrifice  on  the  one  side, 
meeting  a  young  and  true  heart  on  the  other.  It  is 
not  within  the  scope  of  my  book,  however,  to  speak  of 
family  relations,  or  I  should  have  much  to  say  on  the 
subject  of  English  mothers — ay,  and  of  English 
fathers,  and  sisters,  and  brothers,  too. 

Neither  have  I  room  to  speak  of  our  private  schools : 
what  I  have  to  say  is  about  public  schools,  those  much- 
abused  and  much-belauded  institutions  peculiar  to  Eng- 
land. So  we  must  hurry  through  Master  Tom's  year 
at  a  private  school  as  fast  as  we  can. 

It  was  a  fair  average  specimen,  kept  by  a  gentleman, 
with  another  gentleman  as  second  master ;  but  it  was 
little  enough  of  the  real  work  they  did — merely  coin- 
ing into  school  when  lessons  were  prepared  and  all 
ready  to  be  heard.  The  whole  discipline  of  the  school 
out  of  lesson  hours  was  in  the  hands  of  the  two  ushers, 
one  of  whom  was  always  with  the  boys  in  their  play- 
ground, in  the  school,  at  meals — in  fact,  at  all  times  and 
everywhere,  till  they  were  fairly  in  bed  at  night. 

Now  the  theory  of  private  schools  is  (or  was)  con- 
stant supervision  out  of  school :  therein  differing  fun- 
damentally from  that  of  public  schools. 

It  may  be  right  or  wrong ;  but  if  right,  this  super- 
vision surety  ought  to  be  the  especial  work  of  the 
head-master,  the  responsible  person.  The  object  of  all 
schools  is  not  to  ram  Latin  and  Greek  into  boys,  but  to 
make  them  good  English  boys,  good  future  citizens ; 
and  by  far  the  most  important  part  of  that  work  must 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  5d 

be  done,  or  not  done,  out.  of  school  hours.  To  leave  it, 
therefore,  in  the  hands  of  inferior  men,  is  just  giving 
up  the  highest  and  hardest  part  of  the  work  of  educa- 
tion. Were  I  a  private  schoolmaster,  I  should  say,  let 
who  will  hear  the  boys  at  their  lessons,  but  let  me  live 
with  them  when  they  are  at  play  and  rest. 

The  two  ushers  at  Tom's  first  school  were  not  gen- 
tlemen, and  very  poorly  educated,  and  were  only  driv- 
ing their  poor  trade  of  usher  to  get  such  living  as  they 
could  out  of  it.  They  were  not  bad  men,  but  had  lit- 
tle heart  for  their  work,  and  cf  course  were  bent  on 
making  it  as  easy  as  possible.  One  of  the  methods  by 
which  they  endeavored  to  accomplish  this,  was  by  en- 
couraging tale-bearing,  which  had  become  a  frightfully 
common  vice  in  the  school  in  consequence,  and  had 
sapped  all  the  foundations  of  school  morality.  Another 
was,  by  favoring  grossly  the  biggest  boys,  who  alone 
could  have  given  them  much  trouble;  whereby  those 
young  gentlemen  became  most  abominable  tyrants, 
oppressing  the  little  boys  in  all  the  small  mean  ways 
which  prevail  in  private  schools. 

Poor  little  Tom  was  made  dreadfully  unhappy  in  his 
first  week,  by  a  catastrophe  which  happened  to  his  first 
letter  home.  With  huge  labor  he  had,  on  the  very 
evening  of  his  arrival,  managed  to  fill  two  sides  of  a 
sheet  of  letter-paper  with  assurances  of  his  love  for 
dear  mamma,  his  happiness  at  school,  and  his  resolves 
to  do  all  she  would  wish.  This  missive,  with  the  help 
of  the  boy  who  sat  at  the  desk  next  him,  also  a  new 
arrival,  he  managed  to  fold  successfully  ;  but  this  done 
the}7  were  sadly  put  to  it  for  means  of  sealing.  En- 
velopes were  then  unknown,  they  had  no  wax,  and 
dared  not  disturb  the  stillness  of  the  evening  school- 
room by  getting  up  and  going  to  ask  the  usher  for  some, 


60  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

At  length  Tom's  friend,  being  of  an  ingenius  turn  of 
mind,  suggested  sealing  with  ink,  and  the  letter  was 
accordingly  stuck  down  with  a  blob  of  ink,  and  duly 
handed  by  Tom,  on  his  way  to  bed,  to  the  housekeeper 
to  be  posted.  It  was  not  till  four  days  afterward,  that 
that  good  dame  sent  for  him,  and  produced  the  precious 
letter,  and  some  wax,  saying,  "  Oh,  Master  Brown,  I 
forgot  to  tell  you  before,  but  your  letter  isn't  sealed," 
Poor  Tom  took  the  wax  in  silence  and  sealed  his  letter, 
with  a  huge  lump  rising  in  his  throat  during  the  pro- 
cess, and  then  ran  away  to  a  quiet  corner  of  the  play- 
ground and  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears.  The  idea  of 
his  mother  waiting  day  after  day  for  the  letter  he  had 
promised  her  at  once,  and  perhaps  thinking  him  for- 
getful of  her,  when  he  had  done  all  in  his  power  to 
make  good  his  promise,  was  as  bitter  a  grief  as  any 
which  he  had  to  undergo  for  many  a  long  year.  His 
wrath  then  was  proportionately  violent  when  he  was 
aware  of  two  boys,  who  stopped  close  by  him,  and 
one  of  whom,  a  fat  gaby  of  a  fellow,  pointed  at  him, 
and  called  him  "  Young  mammy-sick!"  Whereupon 
Tom  arose,  and  giving  vent  thus  to  his  grief  and  shame 
and  rage,  smote  his  derider  on  the  nose,  and  made  it 
bleed — which  sent  that  young  worthy  howling  to  the 
usher,  who  reported  Tom  for  violent  and  unprovoked 
assault  and  battery.  Hitting  in  the  face  was  a  felony 
punishable  with  flogging,  other  hitting  only  a  misde- 
meanor— a  distinction  not  altogether  clear  in  principle. 
Tom  however  escaped  the  penalty  by  pleading  "primum 
tempus\"  and  having  written  a  second  letter  to  his 
mother,  inclosing  some  forget-me-nots,  which  he 
picked  on  their  first  half-holiday  walk,  felt  quite  happy 
again,  and  began  to  enjoy  vastly  a  good  deal  of  his 
new  life. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  61 

These  half-holiday  walks  were  the  great  events  of  the 
week.  The  whole  fifty  boys  started  after  dinner  with, 
one  of  the  ushers  for  Hazeldown,  which  was  distant 
swne  mile  or  so  from  the  school.  Hazledown  measured 
some  three  miles  round,  and  in  the  neighborhood  were 
several  woods  full  of  all  manner  of  birds  and  butterflies. 
The  usher  walked  slowly  round  the  down  with  such 
boys  as  liked  to  accompany  him ;  the  rest  scattered  in 
all  directions,  being  only  bound  to  appear  again  when 
the  usher  had  completed  his  round,  and  accompany  him 
home.  They  were  forbidden,  however,  to  go  any  where 
except  on  the  down  and  into  the  woods,  the  village 
being  especially  prohibited,  where  huge  bulls'-eyes  and 
unctuous  toffy  might  be  procured  in  exchange  for  coin 
of  the  realm. 

Various  were  the  amusements  to  which  the  boys 
then  betook  themselves.  At  the  entrance  of  the  down 
there  was  a  steep  hillock,  like  the  barrows  of  Tom's 
own  downs.  This  mound  was  the  weekly  scene  of 
terrific  combats,  at  a  game  called  by  the  queer  name 
of  "  mud-patties."  The  boys  who  played  divided  into 
sides  under  different  leaders,  and  one  side  occupied  the 
mound.  Then,  all  parties  having  provided  themselves 
with  many  sods  of  turf,  cut  with  their  bread-and-cheese 
knives,  the  side  which  remained  at  the  bottom  pro- 
ceeded to  assault  the  mound,  advancing  upon  all  sides 
under  cover  of  a  heavy  fire  of  turfs,  and  then  strug- 
gling for  victory  with  the  occupants,  which  was  theirs 
as  soon  as  they  could,  even  for  a  moment,  clear  the 
summit,  when  they  in  turn  became  the  besieged.  It 
was  a  good  rough  dirty  game,  and  of  great  use  in 
counteracting  the  sneaking  tendencies  of  the  school. 
Then  others  of  the  boys  spread  over  the  downs,  look- 
ing for  the  koles  of  kuuible-bees  anil  mice,  which 


62  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

they  dug  up  without  mercy,  often  (I  regret  to  say) 
killing  and  skinning  the  unlucky  mice,  and  (I  do 
not  regret  to  say)  getting  well  stung  by  the  humble- 
bees.  Others  went  after  butterflies  and  birds'-eggs 
in  their  seasons;  and  Tom  found  on  Ilazeldown, 
for  the  first  time,  the  beautiful  little  blue  butterfly 
with  golden  spots  on  his  wings,  which  he  had  never 
seen  on  his  own  downs,  and  dug  out  his  first  sand-mar- 
tin's nest.  This  latter  achievement  resulted  in  a  flog- 
ging, for  the  sand-martins  built  in  a  high  bank  close  to 
the  village,  consequently  out  of  bounds ;  but  one  of 
the  bolder  spirits  of  the  school,  who  never  could  be 
happy  unless  he  was  doing  something  to  which  risk 
attached,  easily  persuaded  Tom  to  break  bounds  and 
visit  the  martin's  bank.  From  whence  it  being  only 
a  step  to  the  toffy-shop,  what  could  be  more  simple 
than  to  go  on  there  and  fill  their  pockets ;  or  what 
more  certain  than  that  on  their  return,  a  distribution 
of  treasure  having  been  made,  the  usher  should  shortly 
detect  the  forbidden  smell  of  bulls'-eyes,  and,  a  search 
ensuing,  discover  the  state  of  the  breeches-pockets  of 
Tom  and  his  ally? 

This  ally  of  Tom's  was  indeed  a  desperate  hero  in 
the  sight  of  the  boys,  and  feared  as  one  who  dealt 
in  magic,  or  something  approaching  thereto.  Which 
reputation  came  to  him  in  this  wise.  The  boys  went 
to  bed  at  eight,  and  of  course  consequently  lay  awake 
in  the  dark  for  an  hour  or  two,  telling  ghost-stories  by 
turns.  One  night  when  it  came  to  his  turn,  and  he 
had  dried  up  their  souls  by  his  story,  he  suddenly 
declared  that  he  would  make  a  fiery  hand  appear  on 
the  door ;  and  to  the  astonishment  and  terror  of  the 
boys  in  his  room,  a  hand,  or  something  like  it,  in  pale 
light,  did  then  and  there  appear.  The  fame  of  this 


TOM  BROWN*S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  63 

exploit  having  spread  to  the  other  rooms,  and  being 
discredited  there,  the  young  necromancer  declared  that 
the  same  wonder  would  appear  in  all  the  rooms  in  turn, 
which  it  accordingly  did ;  and  the  whole  circumstances 
having  been  privately  reported  to  one  of  the  ushers  as 
usual,  that  functionary,  after  listening  about  at  the 
doors  of  the  rooms,  by  a  sudden  descent  caught  the 
performer  in  his  night-shirt,  with  a  box  of  phosphorus 
in  his  guilty  hand.  Lucifer-matches  and  all  the  pres- 
ent facilities  for  getting  acquainted  with  fire  were 
then  unknown  ;  the  very  name  of  phosphorus  had 
something  diabolic  in  it  to  the  boy-mind ;  so  Tom's 
ally,  at  the  cost  of  a  sound  flogging,  earned  what 
many  older  folk  covet  much — the  very  decided  fear  of 
most  of  his  companions. 

He  was  a  remarkable  boy,  and  by  no  means  a  bad 
one.  Tom  stuck  to  him  till  he  left,  and  got  into  many 
scrapes  by  so  doing.  But  he  was  the  great  opponent 
of  the  tale-bearing  habits  of  the  school,  and  the 
open  enemy  of  the  ushers;  and  so  worthy  of  all 
support. 

Tom  imbibed  a  fair  amount  of  Latin  and  Greek  at 
the  school,  but  somehow  on  the  whole  it  didn't  suit 
him,  or  he  it,  and  in  the  holidays  he  was  constantly 
working  the  squire  to  send  him  at  once  to  a  public 
school.  Great  was  his  joy  then$  when  in  the  middle 
of  his  third  half-year,  in  October,  183-,  a  fever  broke 
out  in  the  village,  and  the  master  having  himself 
slightly  sickened  of  it,  the  whole  of  the  boys  were 
sent  off  at  a  day's  notice  to  their  respective  homes. 

The  squire  was  not  quite  so  pleased  as  Master  Tom 
to  see  that  young  gentleman's  brown  merry  face  ap- 
pear at  home,  some  two  months  before  the  proper 
time,  for  Christmas  holidays :  and  so  after  putting 


64  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

on  his  thinking  cap,  he  retired  to  his  study  and  wrote 
several  letters ;  the  result  of  which  was  that  one 
morning  at  the  breakfast-table,  about  a  fortnight  after 
Tom's  return,  he  addressed  his  wife  with — "  My  dear, 
I  have  arranged  that  Tom  shall  go  to  Rugby  at  once, 
for  the  last  six  weeks  of  this  half-year,  instead  of 
wasting  them  riding  and  loitering  about  home.  It  is 
very  kind  of  the  doctor  to  allow  it.  Will  you  see  that 
his  things  are  all  ready  by  Friday,  when  I  shall  take 
him  up  to  town,  and  send  him  down  the  next  day  by 
himself." 

Mrs.  Brown  was  prepared  for  the  announcement, 
and  merely  suggested  a  doubt  whether  Tom  were  yet 
old  enough  to  travel  by  himself.  However,  finding 
both  father  and  son  against  her  on  this  point,  she 
gave  in  like  a  wise  woman,  and  proceeded  to  prepare 
Tom's  kit  for  his  launch  into  a  public  school. 


65 


CHAPTEK  IV. 

"  Lettlie  steam-pot  biss  till  it's  hot, 
Give  rne  tLe  speed  of  the  Tantivy  trot." 

Coaching  Song  by  It.  E.  E.   Warburton,  Esq. 

"Now,  SIR,  time  to  get  up,  if  you  please.  Tally-ho 
coach  for  Leicester  '11  be  round  in  half  an  hour,  and 
don't  wait  for  nobody."  So  spake  the  Boots  of  the 
Peacock  Inn,  Islington,  at  half-past  two  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  a  day  in  the  early  part  of  November, 
183-,  giving  Tom  at  the  same  time  a  shake  by  the 
shoulder,  and  then  putting  down  a  candle  and  carry- 
ing off  his  shoes  to  clean. 

Tom  and  his  father  had  arrived  in  town  from  Berk- 
shire the  day  before,  and  finding,  on  inquiry,  that  the 
Birmingham  coaches  which  ran  from  the  city  did  not 
pass  through  Rugby,  but  deposited  their  passengers  at 
Dunchurch,  a  village  three  miles  distant  on  the  main 
road — where  said  passengers  had  to  wait  for  the  Oxford 
and  Leicester  coach  in  the  evening,  or  to  take  a  post- 
chaise — had  resolved  that  Tom  should  travel  down  by 
the  tally-ho,  which  diverged  from  the  main  road  and 
passed  through  Rugby  itself.  And  as  the  tally-ho 
was  an  early  coach,  they  had  driven  out  to  the  Peacock 
to  be  on  the  road. 

Tom  had  never  been  in  London,  and  would  have 
liked  to  have  stopped  at  the  Belle  Sauvage,  where  they 
had  been  put  down  by  the  Star,  just  at  dusk,  that  he 


66  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAY& 

might  have  gone  roving  about  those  endless,  myste- 
rious, gas-lit  streets,  which,  with  their  glare  and  hum 
and  moving  crowds,  excited  him.  so  that  he  couldn't 
talk  even.  But  as  soon  as  he  found  that  the  Peacock 
arrangement  would  get  him  to  Rugby  by  twelve 
o'clock  in  the  day,  whereas  otherwise  he  wouldn't  be 
there  till  the  evening,  all  other  plans  melted  away ;  his 
one  absorbing  aim  being  to  become  a  public  schoolboy 
as  fast  as  possible,  and  six  hours  sooner  or  later  seem- 
ing to  him  of  the  most  alarming  importance. 

Tom  and  his  father  had  alighted  at  the  Peacock  at 
about  seven  in  the  evening,  and  having  heard  with  un- 
feigned joy  the  paternal  order  at  the  bar,  of  steaks 
and  oyster  sauce  for  supper  in  half  an  hour,  and  seen 
his  father  seated  cozily  by  the  bright  fire  in  the  coffee- 
room  with  the  paper  in  his  hand — Tom  had  run  out  to 
see  about  him,  had  wondered  at  all  the  vehicles  pass- 
ing and  repassing,  and  had  fraternized  with  the  boots 
and  ostler,  from  whom  he  ascertained  that  the  Tally- 
ho  was  a  tip-top  goer,  ten  miles  an  hour  including  stop- 
pages, and  so  punctual  that  all  the  road  set  their  clocks 
by  her. 

Then  being  summoned  to  supper  he  had  regaled 
himself  in  one  of  the  bright  little  boxes  of  the  Peacock 
coffee-room  on  the  beef-steak  and  unlimited  oyster- 
sauce  and  brown  stout  (tasted  then  for  the  first  time— 
a  day  to  be  marked  forever  by  Tom  with  a  white 
stone) ;  had  at  first  attended  to  the  excellent  advice 
which  his  father  was  bestowing  on  him  from  over  his 
glass  of  steaming  brandy  and  water,  and  then  begun 
nodding  from  the  united  effects  of  the  stout,  the  fire, 
and  the  lecture.  Till  the  squire  observing  Tom's  state, 
and  remembering  that  it  wras  nearly  nine  o'clock,  and 
that  the  tally-ho  left  at  three,  sent  the  little  fellow  oft 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  67 

to  the  chambermaid,  with  a  shake  of  the  hand  (Tom 
having  stipulated  in  the  morning  before  starting,  that 
kissing  should  now  cease  between  them),  and  a  few 
parting  words. 

"And  now,  Tom,  my  boy,"  said  the  squire,  "remem- 
ber you  are  going,  at  your  own  earnest  request,  to  be 
chucked  into  this  great  school,  like  a  young  bear  with 
all  your  troubles  before  you — earlier  than  we  should 
have  sent  you  perhaps.  If  schools  are  what  they  were 
in  my  time,  you'll  see  a  great  many  cruel  blackguard 
things  done,  and  hear  a  deal  of  foul  bad  talk.  But 
never  fear.  You  tell  the  truth,  keep  a  brave  and  kind 
heart,  and  never  listen  to  or  say  anything  you  wouldn't 
have  your  mother  and  sister  hear,  and  you'll  never  feel 
ashamed  to  come  home,  or  we  to  see  you." 

The  allusion  to  his  mother  made  Tom  feel  rather 
chokey,  and  he  would  have  liked  to  have  hugged  his 
father  well,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  recent  stipula- 
tion. 

As  it  was,  he  only  squeezed  his  father's  hand,  and 
looked  bravely  up  and  said  :  "  I'll  try  father." 

"  I  know  you  will,  my  boy.  Is  your  money  all 
safe?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  diving  into  one  pocket  to  make 
sure. 

"  And  your  keys  ? "  said  the  squire. 

"All  right,"  said  Tom,  diving  into  the  other 
pocket. 

"  Well  then,  good  night.  God  bless  you  !  I'll  tell 
Boots  to  call  you,  and  be  up  to  see  you  off." 

Tom  was  carried  off  by  the  chambermaid  in  a  brown 
study,  from  which  he  was  roused  in  a  clean  little  attic 
by  that  buxom  person  calling  him  a  little  darling,  and 
kissing  him  as  she  left  the  room,  which  indignity  ha 


68  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

was  too  much  surprised  to  resent.  And  still  thinking 
of  his  father's  last  words,  and  the  look  with  which  they 
were  spoken,  he  knelt  down  and  prayed,  that  come  what 
might,  he  might  never  bring  shame  or  sorrow  on  the 

O          *  O  tj 

dear  folk  at  home. 

Indeed,  the  squire's  last  words  deserved  to  have  their 
effect,  for  they  had  been  the  result  of  much  anxious 
thought.  All  the  way  up  to  London  he  had  pondered 
what  he  should  say  to  Tom  by  way  of  parting  advice, 
something  that  the  boy  could  keep  in  his  head  ready 
for  use.  By  way  of  assisting  meditation,  he  had  even 
gone  the  length  of  taking  out  his  flint  and  steel  and 
tinder,  and  hammering  away  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
till  he  had  manufactured  a  light  for  a  long  Trichin- 
opoli  cheroot,  which  he  silently  puffed  ;  to  the  no 
small  wonder  of  Coachee,  who  was  an  old  friend,  and 
an  institution  on  the  Bath  road  ;  and  who  always  ex- 
pected a  talk  on  the  prospects  and  doings,  agricultural 
and  social,  of  the  whole  country  when  he  carried  the 
squire. 

To  condense  the  squire's  meditation,  it  was  some- 
what as  follows :  "I  won't  tell  him  to  read  his  Bible 
and  love  and  serve  God ;  if  he  don't  do  that  for  his 
mother's  sake  and  teaching,  he  won't  for  mine.  Shall 
I  go  into  the  sort  of  temptations  he'll  meet  with  ?  No, 
I  can't  do  that.  Never  do  for  an  old  fellow  to  go  into 
such  things  with  a  boy.  He  won't  understand  me.  Do 
him  more  harm  than  good,  ten  to  one.  Shall  I  tell  him 
to  mind  his  work,  and  say  he's  sent  to  school  to  make 
himself  a  good  scholar?  Well,  but  he  isn't  sent  to 
school  for  that — at  any  rate,  not  for  that  mainly.  I 
don't  care  a  straw  for  Greek  particles,  or  the  digamma 
no  more  does  his  mother.  What  is  he  sent  to  school 
for  ?  Well,  partly  because  he  wanted  so  to  go.  If 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  69 

he'll  only  turn  out  a  brave,  helpful,  truth-telling  Eng- 
lishman, and  a  gentleman,  and  a  Christian,  that's  all  I 
want,"  thought  the  squire  ;  and  upon  this  view  of  the 
case  framed  his  last  words  of  advice  to  Tom,  which 
were  well  enough  suited  to  his  purpose. 

For  they  were  Tom's  first  thoughts  as  he  tumbled 
out  of  bed  at  the  summons  of  Boots,  and  proceeded 
rapidly  to  wash  and  dress  himself.  At  ten  minutes  to 
three  he  was  down  in  the  coffee  room  in  his  stockings, 
carrying  his  hat-box,  coat,  and  comforter  in  his  hand  ; 
and  there  he  found  his  father  nursing  a  bright  fire 
and  a  cup  of  hot  ooffee  and  a  hard  buscuit  on  the 
table. 

"Now  then,  Tom,  give  us  your  things  here,  and 
drink  this ;  there's  nothing  like  starting  warm,  old  fel- 
low." 

Tom  addressed  himself  to  the  coffee,  and  prattled 
away  while  he  worked  himself  into  his  shoes  and  his 
great-coat,  well  warmed  through ;  a  Petersham  coat 
with  velvet  collar,  made  tight,  after  the  abominable 
fashion  of  those  days.  And  just  as  he  is  swallowing 
his  last  mouthful,  winding  his  comforter  round  his 
throat,  and  tucking  the  ends  into  the  breast  of  his  coat 
the  horn  sounds,  Boots  looks  in  and  says,  "  Tally-ho, 
sir ;"  and  they  hear  the  ring  and  rattle  of  the  four  fast 
trotters  and  the  town-made  drag,  as  it  dashes  up  to  the 
Peacock. 

"  Anything  for  us,  Bob  ? "  says  the  burly  guard, 
dropping  down  from  behind,  and  slapping  himself 
across  the  chest. 

"Young  genl'm'n,  Rugby;  three  parcels,  Leicester; 
hamper  o'  game,  Rugby,"  answers  ostler. 

"  Tell  young  gent  to  look  alive,"  says  guard,  open- 
ing the  hind-boot  and  shooting  in  the  parcels,  after  ex- 


tO  TOM  BROWN  S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

amining  them  by  the  lamps.  "  Here,  shove  the  port- 
manteau up  a-top — I'll  fasten  him  presently.  Now 
then,  sir,  jump  up  behind." 

"Good-bye,  father — my  love  at  home."  A  last 
shake  of  the  hand.  Up  goes  Tom,  the  guard  catching 
his  hat-box  and  holding  on  with  one  hand,  while  with 
the  other  he  claps  the  horn  to  his  mouth.  Toot,  toot} 
toot!  the  ostlers  let  go  their  heads,  the  four  bays 
plunge  at  the  collar,  and  away  goes  the  tally-ho  into 
the  darkness,  forty-five  seconds  from  the  time  they 
pulled  up ;  ostler,  Boots,  and  the  squire  stand  looking 
after  them  under  the  Peacock  lamp. 

"Sharp  work!"  says  the  squire,  and  goes  in  again 
to  his  bed,  the  coach  being  well  out  of  sight  and 
hearing. 

Tom  stands  up  on  the  coach  and  looks  back  at  his 
father's  figure  as  long  as  he-  can  see  it,  and  then  the 
guard  having  disposed  of  his  luggage  comes  to  an  an- 
chor, and  finishes  the  buttonings  and  other  prepara- 
tions for  facing  the  three  hours  before  dawn  ;  no  joke 
for  those  who  minded  cold,  on  a  fast  coach  in  Novem- 
ber, in  the  reign  of  his  late  majesty. 

I  sometimes  think  that  you  boys  of  this  generation 
are  a  deal  tenderer  fellows  than  we  used  to  be.  At 
any  rate,  you're  much  more  comfortable  travelers,  for 
I  see  every  one  of  you  with  his  rug  or  plaid,  and  other 
dodges  for  preserving  the  caloric,  and  most  of  you 
going  in  those  fuzzy,  dusty,  padded  first-class  carriages. 
It  was  another  affair  altogether,  a  dark  ride  on  the  top 
of  the  tally-ho,  I  can  tell  you,  in  a  tight  Petersham 
coat,  and  your  feet  dangling  six  inches  from  the  floor. 
Then  you  knew  what  cold  was,  and  what  it  was  to  be 
without  legs,  for  not  a  bit  of  feeling  had  you  in  them 
after  the  first  half-hour.  But  it  had  its  pleasures,  the 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  71 

old  dark  ride.  First  there  was  the  consciousness  of 
silent  endurance,  so  dear  to  every  Englishman — of 
standing  out  against  something,  and  not  giving  in. 
Then  there  was  the  music  of  the  rattling  harness,  and 
the  ring  of  the  horses'  feet  on  the  hard  road,  and 
the  glare  of  the  two  bright  lamps  through  the  steam- 
ing hoar  frost,  over  the  leaders'  ears,  into  the  darkness  ; 
and  the  cheery  toot  of  the  guard's  horn,  to  warn 
some  drowsy  pikeman  or  the  ostler  at  the  next 
change ;  and  the  looking  forward  to  daylight — and 
last,  but  not  least,  the  delight  of  returning  sensation  in 
your  toes. 

Then  the  break  of  dawn  and  the  sunrise ;  where  can 
they  be  ever  seen  in  perfection  but  from  a  coach  roof  ? 
You  want  motion  and  change  and  music  to  see  them 
in  their  glory;  not  the  music  of  singing  men  and  sing- 
ing women,  but  good  silent  music;  which  sets  itself  in 
your  own  head  the  accompaniment  of  work  and  getting 
over  the  ground. 

The  tally-ho  is  past  St.  Alban's,  and  Tom  is  enjoy- 
ing the  ride,  though  half  frozen.  The  guard,  who  is 
alone  with  him  on  the  back  of  the  coach,  is  silent,  but 
has  muffled  Tom's  feet  up  in  straw,  and  put  the  end  of 
an  oak-sack  over  his  knees.  The  darkness  has  driven 
him  inwards,  and  he  has  gone  over  his  little  past  life, 
and  thought  of  all  his  doings  and  promises,  and  of 
his  mother  and  sister,  and  his  father's  last  words; 
and  has  made  fifty  good  resolutions,  and  means  to  bear 
himself  like  a  brave  Brown  as  he  is,  though  a  young 
one. 

Then  he  has  been  forward  into  the  mysterious  boy- 
future,  speculating  as  to  what  sort  of  a  place  Rugby  is, 
and  what  they  do  there,  and  calling  up  all  the  stories 
of  public  schools  which  he  has  heard  from  big  boys  ill 


72  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  holidays.  He  is  chock  full  of  hope  and  life,  not- 
withstanding the  cold,  and  kicks  his  heels  against  the 
backboard,  and  would  like  to  sing,  only  he  doesn't 
know  how  his  friend  the  silent  guard  might  take  it. 

And  now  the  dawn  breaks  at  the  end  of  the  fourth 
stage,  and  the  coach  pulls  up  at  a  little  road-side  inn 
•with  huge  stables  behind.  There  is  a  bright  fire  gleam- 
ing through  the  red  curtains  of  the  bar-window,  and 
the  door  is  open.  The  coachman  catches  his  whip  into 
a  double  thong,  and  throws  it  to  the  ostler  ;  the  steam 
of  the  horses  rises  straight  up  into  the  air.  He  has 
put  them  along  over  the  last  two  miles,  and  is  two 
minutes  before  his  time ;  he  rolls  down  from  the  box 
and  into  the  inn.  The  guard  rolls  off  behind.  "Now, 
sir,"  says  he  to  Tom.  "you  just  jump  down,  and  I'll 
give  you  a  drop  of  something  to  keep  the  cold  out." 

Tom  finds  a  difficulty  in  jumping,  or  indeed  in  find- 
ing the  top  of  the  wheel  with  his  feet,  which  may  be 
in  the  next  world  for  all  he  feels ;  so  the  guard  picks 
him  off  the  coach-top,  and  sets  him  on  his  legs,  and 
they  stump  off  into  the  bar,  and  join  the  coachman 
and  the  other  outside  passengers. 

Here  a  fresh-looking  barmaid  serves  them  each  with 
a  glass  of  early  purl  as  they  stand  before  the  fire, 
coachman  and  guard  exchanging  business  remarks. 
The  purl  warms  the  cockles  of  Tom's  heart,  and  makes 
him  cough. 

"  Rare  tackle,  that,  sir,  of  a  cold  morning,"  says  the 
coachman,  smiling.  "  Time's  up."  They  are  out  again 
and  up ;  coachee  the  last,  gathering  the  reins  into  his 
hands  and  talking  to  Jem  the  ostler  about  the  mare's 
shoulder,  and  then  swinging  himself  up  on  to  the  box 
— the  horses  dashing  off  in  a  canter  before  he  falls  into 
his  seat.  Toot-toot-toodle-too  goes  the  horn,  and  away 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  73 

they  are  again,  five-and-thirty  miles  on  their  road 
(nearly  half  way  to  Rugby,  thinks  Tom),  and  the  pros- 
pect of  breakfast  at  the  end  of  the  stage. 

And  now  they  begin  to  see,  and  the  early  life  of  the 
country-side  comes  out ;  a  market  cart  or  two,  men  in 
smock-frocks  going  to  their  work  pipe  in  mouth,  a 
whiff  of  which  is  no  bad  smell  this  bright  morning. 
The  sun  gets  up,  and  the  mist  shines  like  silver  gauze. 
They  pass  the  hounds  jogging  along  to  a  distant  meet, 
at  the  heels  of  the  huntsman's  hack,  whose  face  is 
^bout  the  color  of  the  tails  of  his  old  pink,  as  he  ex- 
changes greetings  with  coachman  and  guard.  Now 
they  pull  up  at  a  lodge,  and  take  on  board  a  well- 
muffled-up  sportsman,  with  his  gun-case  and  carpet- 
bag. An  early  up-coach  meets  them,  and  the  coach- 
men gather  up  their  horses,  and  pass  one  another  with 
the  accustomed  lift  of  the  elbow,  each  team  doing 
eleven  miles  an  hour,  with  a  mile  to  spare  behind  if 
necessary.  And  here  comes  breakfast. 

"  Twenty  minutes  here,  gentleman,"  says  the  coach- 
man as  they  pull  up  at  half  past-seven  at  the  inn  door. 

Have  we  not  endured  nobly  this  morning,  and  is 
not  this  a  worthy  reward  for  much  endurance  ?  There 
is  the  low  dark  wainscoted  room  hung  with  sporting 
prints ;  the  hat-stand  (with  a  whip  or  two  standing  up 
in  it  belonging  to  bagmen  who  are  still  snug  in  bed) 
by  the  door ;  the  blazing  fire,  with  the  quaint  old  glass 
over  the  mantel-piece,  in  which  is  stuck  a  large  card 
with  the  list  of  the  meets  for  the  week  of  the  county 
hounds.  The  table  covered  with  the  whitest  of  cloths 
and  of  china,  and  bearing  a  pigeon-pie,  ham,  round  of 
cold  boiled  beef  cut  from  a  mammoth  ox,  and  the 
great  loaf  of  household  bread  on  a  wooden  trencher. 
And  here  comes  in  the  stout  head  waiter,  puffing  under 


74  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS. 

a  tray  of  hot  viands ;  kidneys  and  steak,  transparent 
rashers  and  poached  eggs,  buttered  toast  and  muffins, 
coffee  and  tea,  all  smoking  hot.  The  table  can  never 
hold  it  all ;  the  cold  meats  are  removed  to  the  side- 
board, they  were  only  put  on  for  show  and  to  give  us 
an  appetite.  And  now  fall  on,  gentlemen  all.  It  is  a 
well-known  sporting-house,  and  the  breakfasts  are  fa- 
mous. Two  or  three  men  in  pink,  on  their  way  to  the 
meet,  drop  in,  and  are  very  jovial  and  sharp-set,  as  in- 
deed we  all  are. 

"  Tea  or  coffee,  sir  ? "  says  head  waiter,  coming  round 
to  Tom. 

"  Coffee  please,"  says  Tom,  with  his  mouth  full 
of  muffin  and  kidney ;  coffee  is  a  treat  to  him,  tea 
is  not. 

Our  coachman,  I  perceive,  who  breakfasts  with  us, 
is  a  cold-beef  man.  He  also  eschews  hot  potations, 
and  addicts  himself  to  a  tankard  of  ale,  which  is  brought 
him  by  the  barmaid.  Sportsman  looks  on  approv- 
ingly, and  orders  a  ditto  for  himself. 

Tom  has  eaten  kidney  and  pigeon-pie,  and  imbibed 
coffee,  till  his  little  skin  is  as  tight  as  a  drum  ;  and  then 
has  the  further  pleasure  of  paying  head  waiter  out 
of  his  own  purse,  in  a  dignified  manner,  and  walks  out 
before  the  inn  door  to  see  the  horses  put  to.  This  is 
done  leisurely  and  in  a  highly -finished  manner  by  the 
ostlers,  as  if  they  enjoyed  the  not  being  hurried. 
Coachman  comes  out  with  his  way-bill,  and  puff- 
ing a  fat  cigar  which  the  sportsman  has  given  him. 
Guard  emerges  from  the  tap,  where  he  prefers 
breakfasting,  licking  round  a  tough-looking  doubt- 
ful cheroot,  which  you  might  tie  round  your  finger, 
and  three  whiffs  of  which  would  knock  any  one  else 
put  of  time, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  ^5 

The  pinks  stand  about  the  inn  door  lighting  cigars 
and  waiting  to  see  us  start,  while  their  hacks  are  led 
up  and  down  the  market-place  on  which  the  inn  looks. 
They  all  know  our  sportsman,  and  we  feel  a  reflected 
credit  when  we  see  him  chatting  and  laughing  with 
them. 

"  Now,  sir,  please,"  says  the  coachman  ;  all  the  rest 
of  the  passengers  are  up ;  the  guard  is  locking  the 
hind  boot. 

"  A  good  run  to  you !  "  says  the  sportsman  to  the 
pinks,  and  is  by  the  coachman's  side  in  no  time. 

"  Let  'em  go,  Dick ! "  The  ostlers  fly  back,  draw- 
ing off  the  cloths  from  their  glossy  loins,  and  away  we 
go  through  the  market-place  and  down  the  High 
street,  looking  in  at  the  first-floor  windows,  and  seeing 
several  worthy  burgesses  shaving  thereat ;  while  all 
the  shop-boys  who  are  cleaning  the  windows,  and 
housemaids  who  are  doing  the  steps,  stop  and  look 
pleased  as  we  rattle  past,  as  if  we  were  a  part  of  their 
legitimate  morning's  amusement.  We  clear  the  town, 
and  are  well  out  between  the  hedegrows  again  as  the 
town  clock  strikes  eight. 

The  sun  shines  almost  warmly,  and  breakfast  has 
oiled  all  springs  and  loosened  all  tongues.  Tom  is  en- 
couraged by  a  remark  or  two  of  the  guard's  between 
the  puffs  of  his  oily  cheroot,  and  besides  is  getting 
tired  of  not  talking ;  he  is  too  full  of  his  destination 
to  talk  about  anything  else ;  and  so  asks  the  guard  if 
he  knows  Rugby. 

"  Goes  through  it  every  day  of  my  life.  Twenty 
minutes  afore  twelve  down —  ten  o'clock  up." 

"  What  sort  of  a  place  is  it,  please  ? "  says  Tom. 

Guard  looks  at  him  with  a  comical  expression. 
"Werry  out-o'-the- way  place,  sir;  no  paving  to  the 


76  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

streets  nor  no  lighting.  'Mazing  big  horse  and  cattle 
fair  in  autumn — lasts  a  week — just  over  now.  Takes 
town  a  week  to  get  clean  after  it.  Fairish  hunting 
country.  But  slow  place,  sir,  slow  place  :  off  the  main 
road,  you  see — only  three  coaches  a  day,  and  one  on 
'em  a  two-oss  wan,  more  like  a  hearse  nor  a  coach — 
Regulator — comes  from  Oxford.  Young  genl'm'n  at 
school  calls  her  Pig  and  Whistle,  and  goes  up  to  col- 
lege by  her  (six  miles  an  hour)  when  they  goes  to 
enter.  Belong  to  school,  sir  ?  " 

"Yes,"  says  Tom,  not  unwilling  for  a  moment  that 
the  guard  should  think  him  an  old  boy.  But  then 
having  some  qualms  as  to  the  truth  of  the  assertion 
and  seeing  that  if  he  were  to  assume  the  character  of 
an  old  boy  he  couldn't  go  on  asking  the  questions  he 
wanted,  added — "  that  is  to  say,  I'm  on  my  way  there. 
I'm  a  new  boy." 

The  guard  looked  as  if  he  knew  this  quite  as  well  as 
Tom. 

"  You're  werry  late,  sir,"  says  the  guard  ;  "  only  six 
weeks  to-day  to  the  end  of  the  half."  Tom  assented. 
"We  takes  up  fine  loads  this  day  six  weeks,  and  Mon- 
day and  Tuesday  arter.  Hopes  we  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  carrying  you  back." 

Tom  said  he  hoped  they  would ;  but  he  thought 
within  himself  that  his  fate  would  probably  be  the 
Pig  and  Whistle. 

"It  pays  uncommon,  cert'nly,"  continues  the  guard. 
"Werry  free  with  their  cash  is  the  young  genl'm'n. 
But,  Lor'  bless  you,  we  gets  into  such  rows  all  'long 
the  road,  whatwi'  their  pea-shooters,  and  long  whips, 
and  hollering,  and  upsetting  every  one  as  comes  by; 
I'd  a  sight  sooner  carry  one  or  two  on  'em,  sir,  as  I 
may  be  a  carry  in'  of  you  now,  than  a  coach-load." 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  77 

"  What  do  they  do  with  the  pea-shooters  ? "  inquires 
Tom. 

"  Do  wi'  'em  !  why  peppers  every  one's  faces  as  we 
comes  near,  'cept  the  young  gals,  and  breaks  windows 
wi'  them  too,  some  on  'em  shoots  so  hard.  Now  'twas 
just  here  last  June,  as  we  was  a  driving  up  the  first- 
day  boys,  they  was  mendin'  a  quarter  mile  of  road, 
and  there  was  a  lot  of  Irish  chaps,  reg'lar  roughs,  a 
breaking  stones.  As  we  comes  up,  '  Now,  boys,'  says 
young  gent  on  the  box  (smart  young  fellow  and 
desper't  reckless),  'here's  fun !  Let  the  Pats  have  it 
about  the  ears.'  '  God's  sake,  sir ! '  says  Bob  (that's 
my  mate  the  coachman), '  don't  go  for  to  shoot  at  'em, 
they'll  knock  us  off  the  coach.'  *  Damme,  coachee,' 
says  young  my  lord,  'you  ain't  afraid;  hoora,  boys! 
let  'em  have  it.'  *  Hoora ! '  sings  out  the  others,  and 
fill  their  mouths  chock  full  of  peas  to  last  the  whole 
line.  Bob  seeing  as  'twas  to  come,  knocks  his  hat 
over  his  eyes,  hollers  to  his  'osses,  and  shakes  'em  up, 
and  away  we  goes  up  to  the  line  on  'em,  twenty  miles 
an  hour.  The  Pats  begin  to  hoora  too,  thinking  it 
was  a  runaway,  the  first  lot  on  'em  stands  grinnin' 
and  wavin'  their  old  hats  as  we  comes  abreast  on  'em ; 
and  then  you'd  ha'  laughed  to  see  how  took  aback  and 
choking  savage  they  looked  when  they  gets  the  peas 
a  stinging  all  over  'em.  But  bless  you,  the  laugh 
weren't  all  of  our  side,  sir,  by  a  long  way.  "We  was 
going  so  fast,  and  they  was  so  took  aback,  that  they 
didn't  take  what  was  up  till  we  was  half-way  up  the 
line.  Then  'twas  '  look  out  all,'  surely.  They  howls 
all  down  the  line  fit  to  frighten  you,  some  on  'em 
runs  arter  us  and  tries  to  clamber  up  behind,  only  we 
hits  'em  over  the  fingers  and  pulls  their  hands  off, 
one  as  bad  had  it  very  sharp  act'ly  runs  right  at  the 


78  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

leaders,  as  though  he'd  ketch  'em  by  the  heads,  only 
luck'ly  for  him  he  misses  his  tip>  and  comes  over  a 
heap  o'  stones,  first.  The  rest  picks  up  stones,  and 
gives  it  us  right  away  till  we  gets  out  o'  shot,  the 
young  gents  holding  out  werry  manful  with  the  pea- 
shooters and  such  stones  as  lodged  on  us,  and  a  pretty 
many  there  was,  too.  Then  Bob  picks  hisself  up  again, 
and  looks  at  young  gent  on  box  werry  solemn.  Bob'd 
had  a  rum  un  in  the  ribs,  which'd  like  to  ha'  knocked 
him  off  the  box  or  made  him  drop  the  reins.  Young 
gent  on  box  picks  hisself  up,  and  so  does  we  all,  and 
looks  round  to  count  damage.  Box's  head  cut  open 
and  his  hat  gone ;  'nother  young  gent's  hat  gone  : 
mine  knocked  in  at  the  side,  and  not  one  on  us  as 
wasn't  black  and  blue  somewheres  or  another ;  most 
on  'em  all  over.  Two-pounds-ten  to  pay  for  dam- 
age to  paint,  which  they  subscribed  for  there  and 
then,  and  give  Bob  and  me  a  extry  half  sovereign 
each;  but  I  wouldn't  go  down  that  line  again,  not  for 
twenty  half-soveriegns."  And  the  guard  shook  his 
head  slowly,  and  got  up  and  ble\v  a  clear  brisk  toot- 
toot. 

"  "What  fun ! "  said  Tom,  who  could  scarcely  contain 
his  pride  at  this  exploit  of  his  future  schoolfellows. 
He  longed  already  for  the  end  of  the  half,  that  he 
might  join  them. 

"  'Taint  such  good  fun  though,  sir,  for  the  folk  as 
meets  the  coach,  nor  for  we  who  has  to  go  back  with 
it  next  day.  Them  Irishers  last  summer  had  all  got 
stones  ready  for  us,  and  was  all  but  letting  drive,  and 
we'd  got  two  reverend  gents  aboard  too.  We  pulled 
up  at  the  beginning  of  the  line,  and  pacified  them 
and  were  never  going  to  carry  no  more  pea-shooters, 
unless  they  promised  not  to  fire  where  there's  a  line 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  tO 

of  Irish  chaps  a  stone-breaking."  The  guard  stopped 
and  pulled  away  at  his  cheroot,  regarding  Tom  be- 
nignantly  the  while. 

"  Oh,  don't  stop !  tell  us  something  more  about  the 
pea-shooting." 

"  Well,  there'd  like  to  have  been  a  pretty  piece  of 
work  over  it  at  Bicester,  a  while  back.  We  was  six 
mile  from  the  town,  when  we  meets  an  old  square- 
headed  gray-haired  yoeman  chap,  a  jogging  along 
quite  quiet.  He  looks  up  at  the  coach,  and  just  then 
a  pea  hits  him  on  the  nose,  and  some  ketches  his  cob 
behind  and  makes  him  dance  up  on  his  hind  legs.  I 
see'd  the  old  boy's  face  flush  and  look  plaguy  awk- 
ward, and  I  thought  we  was  in  for  somethin'  nasty. 

"  He  turns  his  cob's  head,  and  rides  quietly  after 
us  just  out  of  shot.  How  that  ere  cob  did  step !  we 
never  shook  him  off  not  a  dozen  yards  in  the  six  mile. 
At  first  the  young  gents  was  werry  lively  on  him ;  but 
afore  we  got  in,  seeing  how  steady  the  old  chap  come 
on,  they  was  quite  quiet,  and  laid  their  heads  together 
what  they  should  do.  Some  was  for  fighting,  some  for 
axing  his  pardon.  He  rides  into  the  town  close  after 
us,  comes  up  when  we  stops,  and  says  the  two  as  shot 
at  him  must  come  before  a  magistrate ;  and  a  great 
crowd  comes  round,  and  we  couldn't  get  the  'osses  to. 
But  the  young  uns,  they  all  stand  by  one  another,  and 
says  all  or  none  must  go,  and  as  how  the'd  fight  it 
out,  and  have  to  be  carried.  Just  as  'twas  gettin' 
serious,  and  the  old  boy  and  the  mob  was  goin'  to  pull 
'em  off  the  coach,  one  little  fellow  jumps  up  and  says, 
f  Here — I'll  stay — I'm  only  going  three  miles  further. 
My  father's  name's  Davis ;  he's  known  about  here,  and 
I'll  go  before  the  magistrate  with  this  gentleman.' 
1  What,  be  thee  Parson  Davis'  son  ? '  says  the  old  boy. 


80  TOM  BROWN^  SCHOOL   DAYS. 

'  Yes,'  says  the  young  un.  '  Well,  I  be  mortal  sorry 
to  meet  thee  in  such  company,  but  for  thy  father's 
sake  and  thine  (for  thee  bi'st  a  brave  young  chap)  I'll 
say  no  more  about  it.'  Didn't  the  boys  cheer  him,  and 
the  mob  cheered  the  young  chap — and  then  one  of 
the  biggest  gets  down,  and  begs  his  pardon  werry  gen- 
tlemanly for  all  the  rest,  saying  as  they  had  all  been, 
plaguy  vexed  from  the  first,  but  didn't  like  to  ax  his 
pardon  till  then,  'cause  they  felt  they  hadn't  ought  to 
shirk  the  consequences  of  their  joke.  And  then  they 
all  got  down  and  shook  hands  with  the  old  boy,  and 
asked  him  to  all  parts  of  the  country,  to  their  homes; 
and  we  drives  off  twenty  minutes  behind  time,  with 
cheering  and  hollering  as  if  we  was  county  members. 
But,  Lor'  bless  you,  sir,"  says  the  guard,  smacking  his 
hand  down  on  his  knee  and  looking  full  into  Tom's 
face,  "ten  minutes  arter  they  was  all  as  bad  as 
ever." 

Tom  showed  such  undisguised  and  open-mouthed 
interest  in  his  narrations,  that  the  old  guard  rubbed  up 
his  memory,  and  launched  out  into  a  graphic  history  of 
all  the  performances  of  the  boys  on  the  road  for  the 
last  twenty  years.  Off  the  road  he  couldn't  go  ;  the 
exploit  must  have  been  connected  with  horses  or 
vehicles  to  han£  in  the  old  fellow's  head.  Tom  tried 

D 

him  off  his  own  ground  once  or  twice,  but  found  he 
knew  nothing  beyond,  and  so  let  him  have  his  head, 
and  the  rest  of  thy  road  bowled  easily  away ;  for  old 
Blow-hard  (as  the  boys  called  him)  was  a  dry  old  file, 
with  much  kindness  and  humor,  and  a  capital  spinner 
of  a  yarn  when  he  had  broken  the  neck  of  his  day's 
work  and  got  plenty  of  ale  under  his  belt. 

What  struck  Tom's  youthful  imagination  most  was 
the  desperate  and  lawless  character  of  most  of  the 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  81 

stories.  Was  the  guard  hoaxing  him  ?  He  couldn't 
help  hoping  that  they  were  true.  It's  very  odd  how 
almost  all  English  boys  love  danger ;  you  can  get  ten. 
to  join  a  game,  or  climb  a  tree,  or  swim  a  stream, 
when  there's  a  chance  of  breaking  their  limbs  or  get- 
ting drowned,  for  one  who'll  stay  on  level  ground,  or 
in  his  depth,  or  play  quoits  or  bowls. 

The  guard  had  just  finished  an  account  of  a  desper- 
ate fight  which  had  happened  at  one  of  the  fairs 
between  the  drovers  and  the  farmers  with  their  whips, 
and  the  boys  with  cricket-bats  and  wickets,  which 
arose  out  of  a  playful  but  objectionable  practice  of  the 
boys  going  round  to  the  public-houses  and  taking  the 
linen-pins  out  of  the  wheels  of  the  gigs,  and  was  mor- 
alizing upon  the  way  in  which  the  doctor,  "a  terrible 
stern  man  he'd  heard  tell,"  had  come  down  upon  several 
of  the  performers,  "  sending  three  on  'em  off  next  morn- 
ing, each  in  a  po-chay  with  a  parish  constable,"  when 
they  turned  a  corner  and  neared  the  milestone,  the 
third  from  Rugby.  By  the  stone  two  boys  stood,  their 
jackets  buttoned  tight,  waiting  for  the  coach. 

"Look  here,  sir,"  says  the  guard,  after  giving  a 
sharp  toot-toot,  "  there's  two  on  'em  ;  out  and  out  run- 
ners they  be.  They  come  out  about  twice  or  three 
times  a  week,  and  spirts  a  mile  alongside  of  us." 

And  as  they  came  up,  sure  enough,  away  went  two 
boys  along  the  footpath,  keeping  up  with  the  horses ; 
the  first,  a  light,  clean-made  fellow,  going  on  springs, 
the  other  stout  and  round-shouldered,  laboring  in  his 
pace,  but  going  as  dogged  as  a  bull-terrier. 

Old  Blow-hard  looked  on  admiringly.  "See  how 
beautiful  that  there  un  holds  hisself  together,  and  goes 
from  his  hips,  sir,"  said  he;  "he's  a  'mazin'  fine  run- 
ner, Now,  many  coachmen  as  drives  a  first-rate 


82  TOM  BROWN  S  SCHOOL  DATS. 

team'd  put  it  on  and  try  and  pass  'em.  But  Bob,  sir, 
bless  you,  he's  tender-hearted ;  he'd  sooner  pull  in  a  bit 
if  he  see'd  'em  a  gettin'  beat.  I  do  b'lieve,  too,  as  that 
there  un'd  sooner  break  his  heart  than  let  us  go  by 
him  afore  next  milestone." 

At  the  second  milestone  the  boys  pulled  up  short 
and  waved  their  hats  to  the  guard,  who  had  his  watch 
out  and  shouted  "4.56,"  thereby  indicating  that  the 
mile  had  been  done  in  four  seconds  under  the  five 
minutes.  They  passed  several  more  parties  of  boys, 
all  of  them  objects  of  the  deepest  interest  to  Tom,  and 
came  in  sight  of  the  town  at  ten  minutes  before  twelve. 
Tom  fetched  a  long  breath,  and  thought  he  had  never 
spent  a  pleasanter  day.  Before  he  went  to  bed  he  had 
quite  settled  that  it  must  be  the  greatest  day  that  he 
should  ever  spend,  and  didn't  alter  his  opinion  for 
many  a  long  year — if  he  has  yet. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  83 


CHAPTER  V. 

RUGBY   AND   FOOTBALL. 

' ' Foot  and  eye  opposed 

In  dubious  strife." 

— SCOTT. 

"  AND  so  here's  Rugby,  sir,  at  last,  and  you'll  be  in 
plenty  of  time  for  dinner  at  the  school-house,  as  I 
tell'd  you,"  said  the  old  guard,  pulling  his  horn  out  of 
its  case,  and  tootle-tooing  away  ;  while  the  coachman 
shook  up  his  horses,  and  carried  them  along  the  side 
of  the  school  close,  round  Dead-man's  Corner,  past  the 
school  gates,  and  down  the  High  street  to  the  Spread 
Eagle ;  the  wheelers  in  a  spanking  trot,  and  leaders 
cantering,  in  a  style  which  would  not  have  disgraced 
"  Cherry  Bob,"  "  ramping,  stamping,  tearing,  swearing 
Billy  Harwood,"  or  any  other  of  the  old  coaching 
heroes. 

Tom's  heart  beat  quick  as  he  passed  the  great 
school  field  or  close,  with  its  noble  elms,  in  which  sev- 
eral games  of  football  were  going  on,  and  tried  to 
take  in  at  once  the  long  line  of  gray  buildings,  begin- 
ning with  the  chapel,  and  ending  with  the  school-house, 
the  residence  of  the  head-master,  where  the  great  flag 
was  lazily  waving  from  the  highest  round  tower. 
And  he  began  already  to  be  proud  at  being  a  Rugby 
boy,  as  he  passed  the  school-gates,  with  the  oriel-win- 
dow above,  and  saw  the  boys  standing  there,  looking 
as  if  the  town  belonged  to  them,  and  nodding  in  a 


84  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

familiar  manner  to  the  coachman,  as  if  any  one  01 
them  would  be  quite  equal  to  getting  on  the  box  and 
working  the  team  down  street  as  well  as  he. 

One  of  the  young  heroes,  however,  ran  out  from  the 
rest,  and  scrambled  up  behind  ;  where,  having  righted 
himself  and  nodded  to  the  guard  with  "  How  do,  Jem  ?" 
he  turned  short  round  to  Tom,  and,  after  looking  him 
over  for  a  minute,  began  : 

"  I  say,  you  fellow,  is  your  name  Brown  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  in  considerable  astonishment ;  glad 
however  to  have  lighted  on  some  one  already  who 
seemed  to  know  him. 

"  Ah,  I  thought  so ;  you  know  my  old  aunt,  Miss 
East ;  she  lives  somewhere  down  your  way  in  Berkshire. 
She  wrote  to  me  that  you  were  coming  to-day,  and 
asked  me  to  give  you  a  lift." 

Tom  was  somewhat  inclined  to  resent  the  patroniz- 
ing air  of  his  new  friend — a  boy  of  just  about  his  own 
height  and  age,  but  gifted  with  the  most  transcendent 
coolness  and  assurance,  which  Tom  felt  to  be  aggravat- 
ing and  hard  to  bear,  but  couldn't  for  the  life  of  him 
help  admiring  and  envying — especially  when  young 
my  lord  begins  hectoring  two  or  three  long  loafing 
fellows,  half-porter,  half  stableman,  with  a  strong 
touch  of  the  black-guadr,  and  in  the  end  ar 
ranges  with  one  of  them,  nicknamed  Cooey,  to 
carry  Tom's  luggage  up  to  the  school-house  for  six- 
pence. 

"  And  heai  k'ee,  Cooey,  it  must  be  up  in  ten  minutes 
or  no  more  jobs  from  me.  Come  along,  Brown."  And 
away  swaggers  the  young  potentate,  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  and  Tom  at  his  side. 

"  All  right,  sir,"  saj7s  Cooey,  touching  his  hat,  with 
a  leer  and  a  wink  at  bis  companions, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  85 

"Hullo,  though,"  says  East,  pulling  up  and  taking 
another  look  at  Tom,  "  this'll  never  do — haven't  you 
got  a  hat?  we  never  wear  caps  here.  Only  the  louts 
wear  caps.  Bless  you,  if  you  were  to  go  into  the 

quadrangle  with  that  thing  on,  I don't  know 

what'd  happen."  The  very  idea  was  quite  beyond 
the  young  Master  East,  and  he  looked  unutterable 
things. 

Tom  thought  his  cap  a  very  knowing  affair,  but  con- 
fessed that  he  had  a  hat  in  his  hat  box ;  which  was 
accordingly  at  once  extracted  from  the  hind  boot,  and 
Tom  equipped  in  his  go-to-meeting  roof,  as  his  new 
friend  called  it.  But  this  don't  quite  suit  his  fastidious 
taste  in  another  minute,  being  too  shiny ;  so,  as  they 
walk  up  the  town,  they  dive  into  Nixon's  the  hatter's 
and  Tom  is  arrayed,  to  his  utter  astonishment,  and 
without  paying  for  it,  in  a  regulation  cat-skin  at 
seven-and-sixpence ;  Nixon  undertaking  to  send  the 
best  hat  up  to  the  matron's  room,  school-house,  in  half 
an  hour. 

"  You  can  send  in  a  note  for  a  tile  on  Monday,  and 
make  it  all  right,  you  know,"  said  Mentor ;  "  we're 
allowed  two  seven-and-sixers  a  half,  besides  what  we 
bring  from  home." 

Tom  by  this  time  began  to  be  conscious  of  his  new 
social  position  and  dignities,  and  to  luxuriate  in  the 
realized  ambition  of  being  a  public-school  boy  at  last, 
with  a  vested  right  of  spoiling  two  seven-and-sixers  in 
half  a  year. 

"  You  see,"  said  his  friend,  as  they  strolled  up  to- 
ward the  school-gates,  in  explanation  of  his  conduct — 
"a  great  deal  depends  on  how  a  fellow  cuts  up  at  first. 
If  he's  got  nothing  odd  about  him,  and  answers  straight- 
forward and  holds  his  head  up,  he  gets  on.  Now  you'll 


86  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

do  very  well  as  to  rig,  all  but  that  cap.  You  see  I'm 
doing  the  handsome  thing  by  you,  because  my  father 
knows  yours ;  besides,  I  want  to  please  the  old  lady. 
She  gave  me  half-a-sov.  this  half,  and  perhaps'll  double 
it  next,  if  I  keep  in  her  good  books." 

There's  nothing  for  candor  like  a  lower-school  boy ; 
and  East  was  a  genuine  specimen — frank,  hearty,  and 
good-natured,  well  satisfied  with  himself  and  his  posi- 
tion, and  chock  full  of  life  and  spirits,  and  all  the  Rugby 
prejudices  and  traditions  which  he  had  been  able  to  get 
together,  in  the  long  course  of  one  half  year,  during 
which  he  had  been  at  the  school-house. 

And  Tom,  notwithstanding  his  bumptiousness, 
felt  friends  with  him  at  once,  and  began  sucking  in 
all  his  ways  and  prejudices,  as  fast  as  he  could  under- 
stand them. 

East  was  great  in  the  character  of  cicerone  ;  he 
carried  Tom  through  the  great  gates  where  were  only 
two  or  three  boys.  These  satisfied  themselves  with 
the  stock  questions — "  You  fellow,  what's  your  name  ? 
"Where  do  you  come  from?  How  old  are  you  ?  Wttere 
do  you  board  ?  and,  What  form  are  you  in  ?  " — and  so 
they  passed  on  through  the  quadrangle  and  a  small 
courtyard,  upon  which  looked  down  a  lot  of  little  win- 
dows (belonging,  as  his  guide  informed  him,  to  some  of 
the  school-house-studies),  into  the  matron's  room, 
where  East  introduced  Tom  to  that  dignitary ;  made 
him  give  up  the  key  of  his  trunk  that  the  matron 
might  unpack  his  linen,  and  told  the  story  of  the  hat 
and  of  his  own  presence  of  mind ;  upon  the  relation 
whereof  the  matron  laughingly  scolded  him,  for  the 
the  coolest  new  boy  in  the  house ;  and  East,  indignant 
at  the  accusation  of  newness,  marched  Tom  off  into 
the  quadrangle,  and  began  showing  him  the  schools, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  87 

and  examining  him  as  to  his  literary  attainments; 
the  result  of  which  was  a  prophecy  that  they 
would  be  in  the  same  form,  and  could  do  their  lessons 
together. 

"  And  now  come  in  and  see  my  study ;  we  shall  have 
just  time  before  dinner  ;  and  afterward,  before  calling 
over,  we'll  do  the  close." 

Tom  followed  his  guide  through  the  school-house 
hall,  which  opens  into  the  quadrangle.  It  is  a  great 
room  thirty  feet  long  and  eighteen  high,  or  there- 
about, with  two  great  tables  running  the  whole 
length,  and  two  large  fireplaces  at  the  side,  with  blaz- 
ing fires  in  them  at  one  of  which  some  dozen  boys 
were  standing  and  lounging,  some  of  whom  shouted  to 
East  to  stop ;  but  he  shot  through  with  his  convoy, 
and  landed  him  in  the  long  dark  passages,  with  a 
large  fire  at  the  end  of  each  upon  which  the  studies 
opened.  Into  one  of  these,  in  the  bottom  passage, 
East  bolted  with  our  hero,  slamming  and  bolting 
the.,  door  behind  them,  in  case  of  pursuit  from  the 
hall,  and  Tom  was  for  the  first  time  in  a  Rugby  boy's 
citadel. 

He  hadn't  been  prepared  for  separate  studies,  and 
was  not  a  little  astonished  and  delighted  with  the 
palace  in  question. 

It  wasn't  very  large  certainly,  being  about  six  feet 
long  by  four  broad.  It  couldn't  be  called  light,  as 
there  were  bars  and  a  grating  to  the  window ;  which 
little  precautions  were  necessary  in  the  studies  on  the 
ground  floor  looking  out  into  the  close,  to  prevent  the 
exit  of  small  boys  after  locking-up,  and  the  entrance  of 
contraband  articles.  But  it  was  uncommonly  com- 
fortable to  look  at,  Tom  thought.  The  space  under 
the  window  at  the  further  end  was  occupied  by  u, 


88  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

square  table  covered  with  a  reasonably  clean  and 
•whole  red  and  blue  check  tablecloth ;  a  hard-seated 
sofa  covered  with  red  stuff  occupied  one  side,  running 
up  to  the  end,  and  making  a  seat  for  one,  or,  by  sitting 
close,  for  two,  at  the  table ;  and  a  good  stout 
wooden  chair  afforded  a  seat  to  another  boy,  so 
that  three  could  sit  and  work  together.  The 
walls  were  wainscoted  half-way  up,  the  wainscot 
being  covered  with  green  baize,  the  remainder 
with  a  bright  patterned  paper,  on  which  hung  three  or 
four  prints,  of  dogs'  heads,  Grimaldi  winning  the 
Aylesbury  steeple-chase,  Amy  Robsart,  the  reigning 
Waverley  beauty  of  the  day,  and  Tom  Crib  in  a  pos- 
ture of  defense,  which  did  no  credit  to  the  science  of 
that  hero,  if  truly  represented.  Over  the  door  were  a 
row  of  hat-pegs,  and  on  each  side  book-cases  with  cup- 
boards at  the  bottom  ;  shelves  and  cupboards  being 
filled  indiscriminately  with  school-books,  a  cup  or  two, 
a  mousetrap,  and  brass  candlesticks,  leathern  straps,  a 
fustain  bag,  and  some  curious-looking  articles,  which 
puzzled  Tom  not  a  little,  until  his  friend  explained 
that  they  were  climbing  irons,  and  showed  their  use. 
A  cricket- bat  and  small  fishing-rod  stood  up  in  one 
corner. 

This  was  the  residence  of  East  and  another  boy  in  the 
same  form,  and  had  more  interest  for  Tom  than  Wind- 
sor Castle,  or  any  other  residence  in  the  British  Isles. 
For  was  he  not  about  to  become  the  joint  owner  of  a 
similar  home,  the  first  place  which  he  could  call  his 
own  ?  One's  own !  What  a  charm  there  is  in  the 
words !  How  long  it  takes  boy  and  man  to  find  out 
their  worth !  how  fast  most  of  us  hold  on  to  them  ! 
faster  and  more  jealously  the  nearer  we  are  to  that 
general  home  into  which  we  can  take  nothing,  but 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  89 

must  go  naked  as  we  came  into  the  world.  When 
shall  we  learn  that  he  who  multiplieth  possessions  mul- 
tiplieth  troubles,  and  that  the  one  single  use  of  things 
which  we  call  our  own  is  that  they  may  be  his  who 
hath  need  of  them  ? 

"  And  shall  I  have  a  study  like  this  too  ? "  said 
Tom. 

"  Yes,  of  course,  you'll  be  chummed  with  some  fellow 
on  Monday,  and  you  can  sit  here  till  then." 

"  What  nice  places." 

"They're  well  enough, "answered  East  patronizingly 
"only  uncommon  cold  at  nights  sometimes.  Gower — 
that's  my  chum — and  I  make  a  fire  with  paper  on  the 
floor  after  supper  generally,  only  that  makes  it  so 
smoky." 

"But  there's  a  big  fire  out  in  the  passage,"  said 
Tom. 

"  Precious  little  good  we  get  out  of  that,  though,"  said 
East ;  "  Jones  the  praepostor  has  the  study  at  the  fire 
end,  and  he  has  rigged  up  an  iron  rod  and  green  baize 
curtain  across  the  passage,  which  he  draws  at  night, 
and  sits  there  with  his  door  open,  so  he  gets  all  the  fire, 
and  hears  if  we  come  out  of  our  studies  after  eight,  or 
make  a  noise.  However,  he's  taken  to  sitting  in  the 
fifth- form  room  lately,  so  we  do  get  a  bit  of  fire  now 
sometimes ;  only  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out  that  he  don't 
catch  you  behind  his  curtain  when  he  comes  down — 
that's  all." 

A  quarter-past  one  now  struck,  and  the  bell  began 
tolling  for  dinner,  so  they  went  into  the  hall  and  took 
their  places,  Tom  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  second 
table,  next  to  the  praeposter  (who  sat  the  end  to  keep 
order  there),  and  East  a  few  paces  higher.  And  now 
TOW  for  the  first  time  saw  his  future  schoolfellows  in 


90  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

a  body.  In  they  came,  some  hot  and  ruddy  from  foot- 
ball or  long  walks,  some  pale  and  chilly  from  hard 
reading  in  their  studies,  some  from  loitering  over  the 
fire  at  the  pastrycook's,  dainty  mortals,  bringing  withi 
them  pickles  and  sauce-bottles  to  help  them  with  their 
dinners.  And  a  great  big  bearded-man,  whom  Tom 
took  for  a  master,  began  calling  over  the  names,  while 
the  great  joints  were  being  rapidly  carved  on  a  third 
table  in  the  corner  by  the  old  verger  and  the  house- 
keeper. Tom's  turn  came  last,  and  meanwhile  he  was 
all  eyes,  looking  first  with  awe  at  the  great  man  who 
sat  close  to  him,  and  was  helped  first,  and  who  read  a 
hard-looking  book  all  the  time  he  was  eating;  and 
when  he  got  up  and  walked  off  to  the  fire,  at  the  small 
boys  round  him,  some  of  whom  were  reading,  and  the 
rest  talking  in  whispers  to  one  another,  or  stealing  one 
another's  bread,  or  shooting  pellets,  or  digging  their 
forks  through  the  tablecloth.  However,  notwith- 
standing his  curiosity,  he  managed  to  make  a  capital 
dinner  by  the  time  the  big  man  called  "Stand  up!  " 
and  said  grace. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  and  Tom  had  been 
questioned  by  such  of  his  neighbors  as  were  curious  as 
to  his  birth,  parentage,  education,  and  other  like  mat- 
ters, East,  who  evidently  enjoyed  his  new  dignity  of 
patron  and  mentor,  proposed  having  a  look  at  the 
close,  which,  Tom,  athirst  for  knowledge,  gladly  as- 
sented to,  and  they  went  out  through  the  quadrangle 
and  past  the  big  fives' -court,  into  the  great  play- 
ground. 

"  That's  the  chapel,  you  see,"  said  East,  "  and  there 
just  behind  it  is  the  place  for  fights ;  you  see  it's  most 
out  of  the  way  of  the  masters,  who  all  live  on  the 
other  side  and  don't  come  by  here  after  first  lesson  or 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  §1 

callings-over.  That's  when  the  fights  come  off.  And 
all  this  part  where  we  are  is  the  little  side-ground,  right 
up  to  the  trees,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  trees  is  the 
big  side-ground,  where  the  matches  are  played.  And 
there's  the  island  in  the  furthest  corner ;  you'll  know 
that  well  enough  next  half,  when  there's  island  fag- 
ging. I  say,  it's  horrid  cold,  lets  have  a  run  across," 
and  away  went  East,  Tom  close  behind  him.  East 
was  evidently  putting  his  best  foot  foremost,  and  Tom, 
who  was  mighty  proud  of  his  running,  and  not  a  little 
anxious  to  show  his  friend  that  although  a  new  boy  he 
was  no  milksop,  laid  himself  down  to  the  work  in  his 
very  best  style.  Right  across  the  close  they  went, 
each  doing  all  he  knew,  and  there  wasn't  a  yard  be- 
tween them  when  they  pulled  up  at  the  island  moat. 

"  I  say,"  said  East,  as  soon  as  he  got  his  wind, 
looking  with  much  increased  respect  at  Tom,  "you 
ain't  a  a  bad  scud,  not  by  no  means.  Well,  I'm  as 
warm  as  a  toast  now." 

"  But  why  do  you  wear  white  trousers  in  Novem- 
ber ?  "  said  Tom.  He  had  been  struck  by  this  peculi- 
arity in  the  costume  of  almost  all  the  school-house 
boys. 

"Why,  bless  us,  don't  you  know?  No,  I  forgot. 
Why,  to-day's  the  school-house  match.  Our  house 
plays  the  whole  of  the  school  at  football.  And  we  all 
wear  white  trousers,  to  show  'em. we  don't  care  for 
hacks.  You're  in  luck  to  come  to-day.  You  just  will 
see  a  match  ;  and  Brook's  going  to  let  me  play  in  quar- 
ters. That's  more  than  he'll  do  for  any  other  lower- 
school  boy,  except  James,  and  he's  fourteen." 

"  Who's  Brooke  ?  " 

"  Why  that  big  fellow  who  called  over  at  dinner,  to 
be  sure.  He's  cock  of  the  school,  and  head  of  the 


92  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

school-house  side,  and  the  best  kick  and  charger  in 
Rugby." 

"Oh,  but  do  show  me  where  they  play  ?  And  tell 
me  about  it.  I  love  football  so,  and  have  played  all 
my  life.  Won't  Brooke  let  me  play  ? " 

"Not  he,"  said  East,  with  some  indignation  ;  "why, 
you  don't  know  the  rules — you'll  be  a  month  learning 
them.  And  then  it's  no  joke  playing-up  in  a  match,  I 
call  tell  you.  Quite  another  thing  from  your  private 
school  games.  Why,  there's  been  two  collar-bones 
broken  this  half,  and  a  dozen  fellows  lamed.  And  last 
year  a  fellow  had  his  leg  broken." 

Tom  listened  with  the  profoundest  respect  to  this  chap- 
ter of  accidents,  and  followed  East  across  the  level 
ground  till  they  came  to  a  sort  of  gigantic  gallows  of 
two  poles  eighteen  feet  high,  fixed  upright  in  the 
ground  some  fourteen  feet  apart,  with  a  cross  bar  run- 
ning from  one  to  the  other  at  the  height  of  ten  feet 
or  thereabouts. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  goals,"  said  East,  "  and  you  see 
the  other  acnoss  there,  right  opposite,  under  the  doc- 
tor's wall.  Well,  the  match  is  for  the  best  of  three 
goals ;  whichever  side  kicks  two  goals  wins :  and  it 
won't  do,  you  see,  just  to  kick  the  ball  through  these 
posts,  it  must  go  over  the  cross  bar ;  any  height  '11  do, 
so  long  as  its  between  the  posts.  You'll  have  to  stay 
in  goal  to  touch  the  ball  when  it  rolls  behind  the  posts, 
because  if  the  other  side  touch  it  they  have  a  try  at 
goal.  Then  we  fellows  in  quarters,  we  play  just  about 
in  front  of  goal  here,  and  have  to  turn  the  ball  and 
kick  it  back  before  the  big  fellows  on  the  other  side 
can  follow  it  up.  And  in  front  of  us  all  the  big  fellows 
play,  and  that's  where  the  scrummages  .are  mostly." 

Tom's  respect  increased  as  he  struggled  to  make 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  93 

out  his  friend's  technicalities,  and  the  other  set  to 
work  to  explain  the  mysteries  of  "  off  your  side," 
"  drop-kicks,"  "  punts,"  "  places,"  and  the  other  intri- 
cacies of  the  great  science  of  football. 

"  But  ho\v  do  you  keep  the  ball  between  the  goals?" 
said  he.  "  I  can't  see  why  it  mightn't  go  right  down 
to  the  chapel." 

"  Why,  that's  out  of  play,"  answered  East.  "  You 
see  this  gravel  walk  running  down  all  along  this  side 
of  the  pi  ay  ing-ground,  and  the  line  of  elms  opposite 
on  the  other  ?  Well,  they're  the  bounds.  As  soon  as 
the  ball  gets  past  them,  it's  in  touch,  and  out  of  play. 
And  then  whoever  first  touches  it,  has  to  knock  it 
straight  out  among  the  players-up,  who  make  two 
lines  with  a  space  between  them,  every  fellow  going 
on  his  own  side.  Ain't  there  just  fine  scrummages 
then!  and  the  three  trees  you  see  there  which  come 
out  into  the  play,  that's  a  tremendous  place  when  the 
ball  hangs  there,  for  you  get  thrown  against  the  trees, 
and  that's  worse  than  any  hack." 

Tom  wondered  within  himself  as  they  strolled  back 
again  toward  the  fives'  court,  whether  the  matches 
were  really  such  break-neck  affairs  as  East  represented, 
and  whether,  if  they  were,  he  should  ever  get  to  like 
them  and  play-up  well. 

He  hadn't  long  to  wonder,  however,  for  next  minute 
East  cried  out,  "Hurra!  here's  the  punt-about — come 
along  and  try  your  hand  at  a  kick."  The  punt-about 
is  the  practice  ball,  which  is  just  brought  out  and 
kicked  about  anyhow  from  one  boy  to  another  before 
callings-over  and  dinner,  and  at  other  odd  times. 
They  joined  the  boys  who  had  brought  it  out,  all  small 
school-house  fellows,  friends  of  East;  and  Tom  had 
the  pleasure  of  trying  his  skill,  and  performed  very 


94  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

creditably,  after  first  driving  his  foot  three  inches  into 
the  ground,  and  then  nearly  kicking  his  leg  into  the 
air,  in  vigorous  efforts  to  accomplish  a  drop-kick  after 
the  manner  of  East. 

Presently  more  boys  and  bigger  came  out,  and  boys 
from  other  houses  on  their  way  to  calling-over,  and 
more  balls  were  sent  for.  The  crowd  thickened  as 
three  o'clock  approached ;  and  when  the  hour  struck, 
one  hundred  and  fifty  boys  were  hard  at  work.  Then 
the  balls  were  held,  the  master  of  the  week  came  down 
in  cap  and  gown  to  calling-over,  and  the  whole  school 
of  three  hundred  bo^s  swept  into  the  big  school  to 
answer  to  their  names. 

"I  may  come  in,  mayn't  I?"  said  Tom,  catching 
East  by  the  arm  and  longing  to  feel  one  of  them. 

"  Yes,  come  along,  nobody'll  say  anything.  You 
won't  be  so  eager  to  get  into  calling-over  after  a  month," 
replied  his  friend  ;  and  they  marched  into  the  big  school 
together,  and  up  to  the  further  end,  where  that  illus- 
trious form,  the  lower  fourth,  which  had  the  honor  of 
East's  patronage  for  the  time  being,  stood. 

The  master  mounted  into  the  high  desk  by  the  door, 
and  one  of  the  praepostors  of  the  week  stood  by  him 
on  the  steps,  the  other  three  inarching  up  and  down 
the  middle  of  the  school  with  their  canes,  calling  out 
"  Silence,  silence ! "  The  sixth  form  stood  close  by 
the  door  on  the  left,  some  thirty  in  number,  mostly 
great  big  grown  men,  as  Tom  thought,  surveying  them 
from  a  distance  with  awe.  The  fifth  form  behind  them 
twice  their  number  and  not  quite  so  big.  These  on  the 
left ;  and  on  the  right  the  lower  fifth,  shell,  and  all  the 
junior  forms  in  order ;  while  up  the  middle  marched 
the  three  prreposters. 

Then  the  praepostor  who  stands  by  the  master  calls 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS.  05 

out  the  names,  beginning  with  the  sixth  form,  and  as 
he  calls,  each  boy  answers  "  Here  "  to  his  name,  and 
walks  out.  Some  of  the  sixth  stop  at  the  door  to  turn 
the  whole  string  of  boys  into  the  close ;  it  is  a  great 
match  day,  and  every  boy  in  the  school,  will-he,  nill- 
he,  must  be  there.  The  rest  of  the  sixth  go  forward 
into  the  close,  to  see  that  no  one  escapes  by  any  of  the 
side  gates. 

To-day,  however,  being  the  school-house  match, 
none  of  the  school  house  praepostors  stay  by  the  door 
to  watch  for  truants  of  their  side  ;  there  is  carteUanclie 
to  the  school-house  fags  to  go  where  they  like  :  "  They 
trust  to  our  honor,"  as  East  proudly  informs  Tom; 
"  they  know  very  well  that  no  school-house  boy  would 
cut  the  match.  If  he  did,  we'd  very  soon  cut  him,  I 
can  tell  you." 

The  master  of  the  week  being  short-sighted,  and  the 
praepostors  of  the  week  small  and  not  well  up  to  their 
work,  the  lower  school-boys  employ  the  ten  minutes 
which  elapse  before  their  names  are  called,  in  pelting 
one  another  vigorously  with  acorns,  which  fly  about 
in  all  directions.  The  small  prapostors  dash  in  every 
now  and  then,  and  generally  chastise  some  quiet,  timid 
boy  who  is  equally  afraid  of  acorns  and  canes,  while 
the  principle  performers  get  dexterously  out  of  the 
way  ;  and  so  calling  over  rolls  on  somehow,  much  like 
the  big  world,  punishments  lighting  on  wrong  shoul- 
ders, and  matters  going  generally  in  a  queer,  cross- 
grained-way,  but  the  end  coming  somehow,  which  is 
after  all  the  great  point.  And  now  the  master  of 
the  week  has  finished,  and  locked  up  the  big  school ; 
and  the  praepostors  of  the  week  come  out,  sweeping 
the  last  remnant  of  the  school  fags — who  had  been 
loafing  about  the  corners  by  the  fives'  court  in 


96  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

hopes  of  a  chance  of  bolting — before  them  into  the 
close. 

"  Hold  the  punt-about ! "  "  To  the  goals ! "  are  the 
cries,  and  all  stray  balls  are  impounded  by  the  autho- 
rities ;  and  the  whole  mass  of  boys  moves  up  toward 
the  two  goals,  dividing  as  they  go  into  three  bodies. 
That  little  band  on  the  left,  consisting  of  from  fifteen 
to  twenty  boys,  Tom  among  them,  who  are  making 
for  the  goal  under  the  school-house  wall,  are  the  school- 
house  boys  who  are  not  to  play-up,  and  have  to  stay  in 
goal.  The  larger  body  moving  to  the  island  goal,  are 
the  school-boys  in  a  like  predicament.  The  great  mass 
in  the  middle  are  the  players-up,  both  sides  mingled  to- 
gether ;  they  are  hanging  their  jackets,  and,  all  who 
mean  real  work,  their  hats,  waistcoats,  neck-handker- 
chiefs, and  braces,  on  the  railings  round  the  small 
trees ;  and  there  they  go  by  twos  and  threes  up  to 
their  respective  grounds.  There  is  none  of  the  color 
and  tastiness  of  get-up,  you  will  perceive,  which  lends 
such  a  life  to  the  present  game  at  Rugby,  making  the 
dullest  and  worst-fought  match  a  pretty  sight.  Now 
each  hguse  has  its  own  uniform  of  cap  and  jersey,  of 
some  lively  color :  but  at  the  time  we  are  speaking  of, 
plush  caps  have  not  yet  come  in  or  uniforms  of  any 
sort,  except  the  school-house  white  trousers,  which  are 
abominably  cold  to-day :  let  us  get  to  work,  bare- 
headed and  girded  with  our  plain  leather  straps — but 
we  mean  business,  gentlemen. 

And  now  that  the  two  sides  have  fairly  sundered, 
and  each  occupies  its  own  ground,  and  we  get  a  good 
look  at  them,  what  absurdity  is  this  ?  You  don't  mean 
to  say  that  those  fifty  or  sixty  boys  in  white  trousers, 
many  of  them  quite  small,  are  going  to  play  that  huge 
mass  opposite  ?  Indeed  I  do,  gentlemen ;  they're  going 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  Q? 

to  try  at  any  rate,  and  won't  make  such  a  bad  fight  of 
it  either,  mark  my  word  ;  for  hasn't  old  Brooke  won 
the  toss,  with  his  lucky  halfpenny,  and  got  choice  of 
goals  and  kick-off  ?  The  new  ball  you  may  see  lie 
there  quite  by  itself,  in  the  middle,  pointing  toward 
the  school  or  island  goal ;  in  another  minute  it  will  be 
well  on  its  way  there.  Use  that  minute  in  remarking 
how  the  school-house  side  is  drilled.  You  will  see  in 
the  first  place,  that  the  sixth-form  boy,  who  has  the 
charge  of  goal,  has  spread  his  force  (the  goal-keepers) 
so  as  to  occupy  the  whole  space  behind  the  goal-posts, 
at  distances  of  about  five  yards  apart ;  a  safe  and  well- 
kept  goal  is  the  foundation  of  all  good  play.  Old 
Brooke  is  talking  to  the  captain  of  quarters ;  and  now 
he  moves  away ;  see  how  that  youngster  spreads  his 
men  (the  light  brigade)  carefully  over  the  ground, 
half-way  between  their  own  goal  and  the  body  of  their 
own  players-up  (the  heavy  brigade).  These  again  play 
in  several  bodies  ;  there  is  young  Brooke  and  the  bull- 
dogs— mark  them  well — they  are  "  the  fighting  bri- 
gade," the  "  die-hards,"  larking  about  at  leap-frog  to 
keep  themselves  warm,  and  playing  tricks  on  one 
another.  And  on  each  side  of  old  Brooke,  who  is  now 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  ground  and  just  going 
to  kick  off,  you  see  a  separate  wing  of  players-up,  each 
with  a  boy  of  acknowledged  prowess  to  look  to — here 
Warner,  and  there  Hedge ;  but  over  all  is  old  Brooke, 
absolute  as  he  of  Kussia,  but  wisely  and  bravely  rul- 
ing over  willing  and  worshiping  subjects,  a  true  foot- 
ball king.  His  face  is  earnest  and  careful  as  he  glances 
a  last  time  over  his  array,  but  full  of  pluck  and  hope, 
the  sort  of  look  I  hope  to  see  in  my  general  when  I 
go  out  to  fight. 
The  school  side  is  not  organized  in  the  same  way. 


98  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS, 

The  goal-keepers  are  all  in  lumps,  anyhow  and  nohow  ; 
you  can't  distinguish  between  the  players-up  and  the 
boys  in  quarters,  and  there  is  divided  leadership ;  but 
with  such  odds  in  strength  and  weight  it  must  take 
more  than  that  to  hinder  them  from  winning :  and  so 
their  leaders  seem  to  think,  for  they  let  the  players-up 
manage  themselves. 

But  now  look,  there  is  a  slight  move  forward  of 
the  school-house  wings ;  a  shout  of  "  Are  you  ready  ? " 
and  loud  affirmative  reply.  Old  Brooke  takes  half  a 
dozen  quick  steps,  and  away  goes  the  ball  spinning 
toward  the  school  goal ;  seventy  yards  before  it  touches 
ground,  and  at  no  point  above  twelve  or  fifteen  feet 
high,  a  model  kick-off  ;  and  the  school-house  cheer  and 
rush  on ;  the  ball  is  returned,  and  they  meet  it  and 
drive  it  back  among  the  masses  of  the  school  already 
in  motion.  Then  the  two  sides  close,  and  you  can  see 
nothing  for  minutes  but  a  swaying  crowd  of  boys,  at 
one  point  violently  agitated.  That  is  where  the  ball 
is,  and  there  are  the  keen  players  to  be  met,  and 
the  glory  and  the  hard  knocks  to  be  got :  you  hear  the 
dull  thud,  thud  of  the  ball,  and  the  shouts  of  "  Off 
your  side,"  "  Down  with  him,"  "  Put  him  over," 
"Bravo!"  This  is  what  we  call  a  scrummage,  gen- 
tlemen, and  the  first  scrummage  in  a  school-house 
match  was  no  joke  in  the  consulship  of  Plancus. 

But  see !  it  has  broken ;  the  ball  is  driven  out  on 
the  school-house  side,  and  a  rush  of  the  school  carries 
it  past  the  school-house  players-up.  "Look  out  in 
quarters,"  Brooke's  and  twenty  other  voices  ring  out ; 
no  need  to  call  though,  the  school-house  captain  of 
quarters  has  caught  it  on  the  bound,  dodges  the  fore- 
most school-boys,  who  are  heading  the  rush,  and  sends 
jt  back  with  a  good  drop-kick  well  into  the  enemy's 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  99 

country.  And  then  follows  rush  upon  rush,  and 
scrummage  upon  scrummage,  the  ball  now  driven 
through  into  the  school-house  quarters,  and  now  into 
the  school  goal ;  for  the  school-house  have  not  lost  the 
advantage  which  the  kick-off  and  a  slight  wind 
gave  them  at  the  outset,  and  are  slightly  "  penning  " 
their  adversaries.  You  say  you  don't  see  much  in  it 
all;  nothing  but  a  struggling  mass  of  boys,  and  a 
leather  ball,  which  seems  to  excite  them  all  to  great 
fury,  as  a  red  rag  does  a  bull.  My  dear  sir,  a  battle 
would  look  much  the  same  to  you,  except  that  the 
boys  would  be  men,  and  the  balls  iron ;  but  a  battle 
would  be  worth  your  looking  at  for  all  that,  and  so  is 
a  football  match.  You  can't  be  expected  to  appreciate 
the  delicate  strokes  of  play,  and  turns  by  which  a 
game  is  lost  and  won — it  takes  an  old  player  to  do 
that,  but  the  broad  philosophy  of  football  you  can  un- 
derstand if  you  will.  Come  along  with  me  a  little 
nearer,  and  let  us  consider  it  together. 

The  ball  has  just  fallen  again  where  the  two  sides 
are  thickest,  and  they  close  rapidly  around  it  in  a 
scrummage ;  it  must  be  driven  through  now  by  force 
or  skill,  till  it  flies  out  on  one  side  or  the  other.  Look 
how  differently  the  boys  face  it !  Here  come  two  of 
the  bull-dogs,  bursting  through  the  outsiders  ;  in  they 
go,  straight  to  the  heart  of  the  scrummage,  bent  on 
driving  that  ball  out  on  the  opposite  side.  That  is 
what  they  mean  to  do.  My  sons,  my  sons !  you  are 
too  hot ;  you  have  gone  past  the  ball,  and  must  strug- 
gle now  right  through  the  scrummage,  and  get  round 
and  back  again  to  your  own  side,  before  you  can  be  of 
any  further  use.  Here  comes  young  Brooke  ;  he  goes 
in  as  straight  as  you,  but  keeps  his  head,  and  backs  and 
bends,  holding  himself  still  behind  the  ball,  an<J 


100  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS. 

ing  it  furiously  when  he  gets  a  chance.  Take  a  leaf 
out  of  his  book,  you  young  chargers.  Here  come 
Speedicut,  and  Flashman  the  school-house  bully,  with 
shouts  and  great  action.  "Won't  you  two  come  up  to 
young  Brooke,  after  locking  up,  by  the  school-house 
fire,  with  "  Old  fellow,  wasn't  that  just  a  splendid 
scrummage  by  the  three  trees  ! "  But  he  knows  you, 
and  so  do  we.  You  don't  really  wan't  to  drive  that 
ball  through  that  scrummage,  chancing  all  hurt  for 
the  glory  of  the  school-house — but  to  make  us  think 
that's  what  you  want — a  vastly  different  thing ;  and 
fellows  of  your  kidney  will  never  go  through  more 
than  the  skirts  of  a  scrummage,  where  it's  a  11  push  and 
no  kicking.  We  respect  boys  who  keep  out  of  it,  and 
don't  sham  going  in  ;  but  you — we  had  rather  not  say 
what  we  think  of  you. 

Then  the  boys  who  are  bending  and  watching  on 
the- outside,  mark  them — they  are  most  useful  players, 
the  dodgers  ;  who  seize  on  the  ball  the  moment  it  rolls 
out  from  among  the  chargers,  and  away  with  it  across 
to  the  opposite  goal ;  they  seldom  go  into  the  scrum- 
mage, but  must  have  more  coolness  than  the  chargers : 
as  endless  as  are  boys'  characters,  so  are  their  ways  of 
facing  or  not  facing  a  scrummage  at  football. 

Three-quarters  of  an  hour  are  gone ;  first  winds  are 
failing,  and  weight  and  numbers  beginning  to  tell. 
Yard  by  yard  the  school-house  have  been  driven  back, 
contesting  every  inch  of  ground.  The  bull-dogs  are 
the  color  of  mother  earth  from  shoulder  to  ankle,  ex- 
cept young  Brooke,  who  has  a  marvelous  knack  of 
keeping  his  legs.  The  school-house  are  being  penned 
in  their  turn,  and  now  the  ball  is  behind  their  goal, 
under  the  doctor's  wall.  The  doctor  and  some  of  his 
family  are  there  looking  on,  and  seem  as  anxious  as 


TOM  BROwVs  SCHOOL  DAYS.  101 

any  boy  for  the  success  of  the  school-house.  We  get 
a  minute's  breathing  time  before  old  Brooke  kicks  out, 
and  he  gives  the  word  to  play  strongly  for  touch,  by 
the  three  trees.  Away  goes  the  ball,  and  the  bull-dogs 
after  it,  and  in  another  minute  there  is  a  shout  of  "  In 
touch,"  "  Our  ball."  Now's  your  time,  old  Brooke, 
while  your  men  are  still  fresh.  He  stands  with  the 
ball  in  his  hand,  while  the  two  sides  form  in  deep  lines 
opposite  one  another :  he  must  strike  it  straight  out 
between  them.  The  lines  are  thickest  close  to  him, 
but  young  Brooke  and  two  or  three  of  his  men  are 
shifting  up  further,  where  the  opposite  line  is  weak. 
Old  Brooke  strikes  it  out  straight  and  strong,  and  it 
falls  opposite  his  brother.  Hurra !  that  rush  has  taken 
it  right  through  the  school  line,  and  away  past  the 
three  trees,  far  into  their  quarters,  and  young  Brooke 
and  the  bull-dogs  are  close  upon  it.  The  school  leaders 
rush  back  shouting  "  Look  out  in  goal,"  and  strain 
every  nerve  to  catch  him,  but  they  are  after  the  fleet- 
est foot  in  Rugby.  There  they  go  straight  for  the 
school  goal-posts,  quarters  scattering  before  them. 
One  after  another  the  bull-dogs  go  down,  but  young 
Brooke  holds  on.  "  He  is  down."  No !  a  long  stag- 
ger, and  the  danger  is  past ;  that  was  the  shock  of 
Crew,  the  most  dangerous  of  dodgers.  And  now  he  is 
close  to  the  school  goal,  the  ball  not  three  yards  before 
him.  There  is  a  hurried  rush  of  the  school  fags  to  the 
spot,  but  no  one  throws  himself  on  the  ball,  the  only 
chance,  and  young  Brooke  has  touched  it  right  under 
the  school  goal-posts. 

The  school  leaders  come  up  furious,  and  administer 
toco  to  the  wretched  fags  nearest  at  hand  :  they  may 
well  be  angry,  for  it  is  all  Lombard  street  to  a  china 
orange  that  the  school-house  kick  a  goal  with  the  ball 


102  TOM  BROWN  S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

touched  in  such  a  good  place.  Old  Brooke  of  coures 
will  kick  it  out,  but  who  shall  catch  and  place  it  ?  Call 
Crab  Jones.  Here  he  conies,  sauntering  along  with  a 
straw  in  his  mouth,  the  queerest,  coolest  fish  inKugby: 
if  he  were  tumbled  into  the  moon  this  minute,  he 
would  just  pick  himself  up  without  taking  his  hands 
out  of  his  pockets  or  turning  a  hair.  But  it  is  a  mo- 
ment when  the  boldest  charger's  heart  beats  quick. 
Old  Brooke  stands  with  the  ball  under  his  arm  motion- 
ing the  school  back;  he  will  not  kick-out  till  they  are 
all  in  a  goal,  behind  the  posts ;  they  are  all  edging 
forward,  inch  by  inch,  to  get  nearer  for  the  rush  at 
Crab  Jones,  who  stands  there  in  front  of  old  Brooke 
to  catch  the  ball.  If  they  can  reach  and  destroy  him 
before  he  catches,  the  danger  is  over;  and  with  one 
and  the  same  rush  they  will  carry  it  right  away  to  the 
school-house  goal.  Fond  hope !  it  is  kicked  out  and 
caught  beautifully.  Crab  strikes  his  heel  into  the 
ground,  to  mark  the  spot  where  the  ball  was  caught, 
beyond  which  the  school  line  may  not  advance ;  but 
there  they  stand,  five  deep,  ready  to  rush  the  moment 
the  ball  touches  the  ground.  Take  plenty  of  room ! 
don't  give  the  rush  a  chance  of  reaching  you  !  place  it 
true  and  steady  !  Trust  Crab  Jones — he  has  made  a 
small  hole  with  his  heel  for  the  ball  to  lie  on,  by  which 
he  is  resting  on  one  knee,  with  his  eye  on  old  Brooke. 
"Now!"  Crab  places  the  ball  at  the  word,  old 
Brooke  kicks,  and  it  rises  slowly  and  truly  as  the  school 
rush  forward. 

Then  a  moment's  pause,  while  both  sides  look  up  at 
the  spinning  ball.  There  it  flies,  straight  between  the 
two  posts,  some  five  feet  above  the  cross-bar,  an  un- 
questioned goal ;  and  a  shout  of  real  genuine  joy  rings 
out  from  the  school-house  players-up,  and  a  faint  echo 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  103 

of  it  comes  over  the  close  from  the  goal-keepers  under 
the  doctor's  wall.  A  goal  in  the  first  hour — such  a 
thing  hasn't  been  done  in  the  school-house  match  this 
five  years. 

"  Over ! "  is  the  cry :  the  two  sides  change  goals, 
and  the  school-house  goal-keepers  come  threading 
their  way  across  through  the  masses  of  the  school ; 
the  most  openly  triumphant  of  them,  among  whom  is 
Tom,  a  school-house  boy  of  two  hours'  standing,  get- 
ting their  ears  boxed  in  the  transit.  Tom  indeed  is 
excited  beyond  measure,  and  it  is  all  the  sixth-form 
boy,  kindest  and  safest  of  goal-keepers,  has  been  able 
to  do,  to  keep  him  from  rushing  out  whenever  the 
ball  has  been  near  their  goal.  So  he  holds  him 
by  his  side,  and  instructs  him  in  the  science  of  touch- 
ing. 

At  this  moment  Griffith,  the  itinerant  vender  of 
oranges  from  Hill  Morton,  enters  the  close  with  his 
heavy  baskets  ;  there  is  a  rush  of  small  boys  upon  the 
little  pale  faced  man,  the  two  sides  mingling  together, 
subdued  by  the  great  Goddess  Thirst,  like  the  English 
and  French  by  the  streams  in  the  Pyrenees.  The 
leaders  are  past  oranges  and  apples,  but  some  of  them 
visit  their  coats,  and  apply  innocent  looking  ginger-beer 
bottles  to  their  mouths.  It  is  no  ginger-beer  though 
I  fear,  and  will  do  you  no  good.  One  short  mad  rush, 
and  then  a  stitch  in  the  side,  and  no  more  honest  play ; 
that's  what  comes  of  those  bottles. 

But  now  Griffith's  baskets  are  empty,  the  ball  is 
placed  again  midway,  and  the  school  are  going  to  kick 
off.  Their  leaders  have  sent  their  lumber  into  goal, 
and  rated  the  rest  soundly,  and  one  hundred  and  twenty 
picked  players-up  are  there,  bent  on  retrieving  the 
game.  They  are  to  keep  the  ball  in  front  of  the  school- 


104  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS. 

house  goal,  and  then  to  drive  it  in  by  sheer  strength 
and  weight.  They  mean  heavy  play  and  no  mistake, 
and  so  old  Brooke  sees ;  and  places  Crab  Jones  in  quar- 
ters just  before  the  goal,  with  four  or  five  picked  play- 
ers, who  are  to  keep  the  ball  away  to  the  sides,  where 
a  try  at  goal,  if  obtained,  will  be  less  dangerous  than 
in  front.  He  himself,  and  Warner  and  Hedge,  who 
have  saved  themselves  till  now,  will  lead  the  charges. 

"Are  you  ready?"  "Yes."  And  away  conies  the 
ball  kicked  high  in  the  air,  to  give  the  school  time  to 
rush  on  and  catch  it  as  it  falls.  And  here  they  are 
among  us.  Meet  them  like  Englishmen,  you  school- 
house  boys,  and  charge  them  home.  Now  is  the  time 
to  show  what  mettle  is  in  you — and  there  shall  be  a 
warm  seat  by  the  hall  fire,  and  honor,  and  lots  of  bot- 
tled beer  to-night,  for  him  who  does  his  duty  in  the 
next  half-hour.  And  they  are  well  met.  Again  and 
again  the  cloud  of  their  players-up  gathers  before  our 
goal,  and  comes  threatening  on,  and  Warner  or  Hedge, 
with  young  Brooke  and  the  relics  of  the  bull-dogs, 
break  through  and  carry  the  ball  back ;  and  old  Brooke 
ranges  the  field  like  Job's  war-horse,  the  thickest 
scrummage  parts  asunder  before  his  rush,  like  the 
waves  before  a  clipper's  bows;  his  cheery  voice  rings 
over  the  field,  and  his  eye  is  everywhere.  And  if 
these  miss  the  ball,  and  it  rolls  dangerously  in  front  of 
our  goal,  Crab  Jones  and  his  men  have  seized  it  and 
sent  it  away  toward  the  sides  with  the  unerring  drop- 
kick.  This  is  worth  living  for ;  the  whole  sum  of 
school-boy  existence  gathered  up  into  one  straining, 
struggling  half-hour,  a  half-hour  worth  a  year  of  com- 
mon life. 

The  quarter  to  five  has  struck,  and  the  play  slackens 
for  a  minute  before  goal;  but  there  is  Crew,  the  artful 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  105 

dodger,  driving  the  ball  in  behind  our  goal,  on  the 
island  side,  where  our  quarters  are  weakest.  Is  there 
no  one  to  meet  him ?  Yes!  look  at  little  East !  the  ball 
is  just  at  equal  distances  between  the  two,  and  they 
rush  together,  the  young  man  of  seventeen  and  the  boy 
of  twelve,  and  kick  it  at  the  same  moment.  Crew 
passes  on  without  a  stagger ;  East  is  hurled  forward 
by  the  shock,  and  plunges  on  his  shoulders,  as  if  he 
would  bury  himself  in  the  ground ;  but  the  ball  rises 
straight  into  the  air,  and  falls  behind  Crew's  back, 
while  the  "bravos"  of  the  school-house  attest  the 
pluckiest  charge  of  all  that  hard-fought  day.  Warner 
picks  East  up  lame  and  half  stunned,  and  he  hobbles 
back  into  goal  conscious  of  having  played  the  man. 

And  now  the  last  minutes  are  come,  and  the  school 
gather  for  their  last  rush  every  boy  of  the  hundred 
and  twenty  who  has  a  run  left  in  him.  Reckless  of  the 
defense  of  their  own  goal,  on  they  come  across  the 
level  big-side  ground,  and  ball  well  down  among  them, 
straight  for  our  goal,  like  the  column  of  the  Old 
Guard  up  the  slope  at  Waterloo.  All  former  charges 
have  been  child's  play  to  this.  Warner  and  Hedge 
have  met  them,  but  still  on  they  come.  The  bull-dogs 
rush  in  for  the  last  time ;  they  are  hurled  over  or  car- 
ried back,  striving  hand,  foot,  and  eyelids.  Old  Brooke 
comes  sweeping  round  the  skirts  of  the  play,  and, 
turning  short  round,  picks  out  the  very  heart  of  the 
scrummage,  and  plunges  in.  It  wavers  for  a  moment 
— he  has  the  ball !  No,  it  has  passed  him,  and  his 
voice  rings  out  clear  over  the  advancing  tide  "lookout 
in  goal."  Crab  Jones  catches  it  for  a  moment ;  but 
before  he  can  kick  it,  the  rush  is  upon  him  and  passes 
over  him  ;  and  he  picks  himself  up  behind  them  with 
his  straw  in  his  mouth,  a  little  dirtier,  but  as  cool  as 
ever, 


106  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

The  ball  rolls  slowly  in  behind  the  school-house 
goal  not  three  yards  in  front  Of  a  dozen  of  the  biggest 
school  players-up. 

There  stands  the  school-house  praepostor,  safest  of 
goal-keepers,  and  Tom  Brown  by  his  side,  who  has 
learned  his  trade  by  this  time.  Now  is  your  time, 
Tom.  The  blood  of  all  the  Browns  is  up,  and  the  two 
rush  in  together,  and  throw  themselves  on  the  ball, 
under  the  very  feet  of  the  advancing  column ;  the 
praepostor  on  his  hands  and  knees  arching  his  back,  and 
Tom  all  along  on  his  face.  Over  them  topple  the 
leaders  of  the  rush,  shooting  over  the  back  of  the  prae- 
postor, but  falling  flat  on  Tom,  and  knocking  all  the 
wind  out  of  his  small  carcass.  "  Our  ball,"  says  the 
praepostor,  rising  with  his  prize ;  "  but  get  up  there, 
there's  a  little  fellow  under  you."  They  are  hauled 
and  roll  off  him,  and  Tom  is  discovered  a  motionless 
body. 

Old  Brooke  picks  him  up.  "  Stand  back,  g.ive  him 
air,"  he  says ;  and  then  feeling  his  limbs,  adds,  "  No 
bones  broken.  How  do  you  feel,  young  un  ? " 

"Hah-hah,"  gasps  Tom  as  his  wind  comes  back, 
"  pretty  well,  thank  you — all  right." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  says  Brooke.  "  Oh,  it's  Brown  ; 
he's  a  new  boy  ;  I  know  him,"  says  East,  coming  up. 

"  Well,  he  is  a  plucky  youngster,  and  will  make  a 
player,"  says  Brooke. 

And  five  o'clock  strikes.  "  No  side,"  is  called,  and 
the  first  day  of  the  school-house  match  is  over. 


10M  BBOWH'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  107 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AFTER  THE   MATCH. 

-Some  food  we  had." — Shakespeare. 


$$  itoroS  dSv?.— THEOCB.  Id. 

As  THE  boys  scattered  away  from  the  ground,  and 
East  leaning  on  Tom's  arm,  and  limping  along,  was 
beginning  to  consider  what  luxury  they  should  go 
and  buy  for  tea  to  celebrate  that  glorious  victory,  the 
two  Brookes  came  striding  by.  Old  Brooke  caught  sight 
of  East  and  stopped;  put  his  hand  kindly  on  his  shoulder 
and  said,  "  Bravo,  youngster,  you  played  famously : 
not  much  the  matter,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  No,  nothing  at  all,"  said  East,  "Only  a  little  twist 
from  that  charge." 

"Well,  mind  and  get  all  right  for  next  Saturday ;" 
and  the  leader  passed  on,  leaving  East  better  for  those 
few  words  than  all  the  opodeldoc  in  England  would 
have  made  him,  and  Tom  ready  to  give  one  of  his  ears 
for  as  much  notice.  Ah  !  light  words  of  those  whom 
we  love  and  honor,  what  a  power  ye  are,  and  how 
carelessly  wielded  by  those  who  can  use  you !  Surely 
for  these  things  also  God  will  ask  an  account. 

"  Tea's  directly  after  locking-up,  you  see,"  said  East, 
hobbling  along  as  fast  as  he  could,  "  so  you  come  along 
down  to  Sally  Harrowell's ;  that's  our  school-house 
tuck-shop — she  bakes  such  stunning  murphies,  we'll 


108  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

have  a  penn'orth  each  for  tea  ;  come  along,  or  they'll 
all  be  gone." 

Tom's  new  purse  and  money  burned  in  his  pocket ;  he 
•wondered,  as  they  toddled  through  the  quadrangle  and 
along  the  street,  whether  East  would  be  insulted  if  he 
suggested  further  extravagance,  as  he  had  not  suffi- 
cient faith  in  a  pennyworth  of  potatoes.  At  last  he 
blurted  out — 

"  I  say,  East,  can't  we  get  something  else  besides 
potatoes?  I've  got  lots  of  money,  you  know." 

"  Bless  us,  yes,  I  forgot,"  said  East,  "  you've  only 
just  come.  You  see  all  my  tin's  been  gone  this  twelve 
weeks,  it  hardly  ever  lasts  beyond  the  first  fortnight ; 
and  our  allowances  were  all  stopped  this  morning  for 
broken  windows,  so  I  haven't  got  a  penny.  I've  got 
a  tick  at  Sally's,  of  course  ;  but  then  I  hate  running  it 
high,  you  see,  toward  the  end  of  the  half,  'cause  one 
has  to  shell  out  for  it  all  directly  one  come's  back,  and 
that's  a  bore." 

Tom  didn't  understand  much  of  this  talk,  but  seized 
on  the  fact  that  East  had  no  money,  and  was  deny- 
ing himself  some  little  pet  luxury  in  consequence. 
"  Well,  what  shall  I  buy  ? "  said  he ;  "  I'm  uncommon 
hungry." 

"  I  say,"  said  East,  stopping  to  look  at  him  and  rest 
his  leg,  "  you're  a  trump,  Brown.  I'll  do  the  same  by 
you  next  half.  Let's  have  a  pound  of  sausages,  then  ; 
that's  the  best  grub  for  tea  I  know  of." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Tom,  as  pleased  as  possible ; 
"  where  do  they  sell  them  ? " 

"Oh,  over  here,  just  opposite;"  and  they  crossed 
the  street  and  walked  into  the  cleanest  little  front  room 
of  a  small  house,  half  parlor,  half  shop,  and  bought 
a  pound  of  most  particular  sausages ;  East  talking 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  109 

pleasantly  to  Mrs.  Porter  while  she  put  them  in  paper, 
and  Tom  doing  the  paying  part. 

From  Porter's  they  adjourned  to  Sally  Harrowell's, 
where  they  found  a  lot  of  school-house  boys  waiting 
for  the  roast  potatoes,  and  relating  their  own  exploits 
in  the  day's  match  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  The 
street  opened  at  once  into  Sally's  kitchen,  a  low,  brick- 
floored  room,  with  large  recess  for  fire,  and  chimney- 
corner  seats.  Poor  little  Sally,  the  most  good-natured 
and  much  enduring  of  womankind,  was  bustling  about 
with  a  napkin  in  her  hand,  from  her  own  oven  to  those 
of  the  neighbors'  cottages,  up  the  yard  at  the  back 
of  the  house.  Stumps,  her  husband,  a  short,  easy-going 
shoemaker,  with  a  beery,  humorous  eye  and  ponderous 
calves,  who  lived  mostly  on  his  wife's  earnings,  stood 
in  a  corner  of  the  room,  exchanging  shots  of  the  rough- 
est description  of  repartee  with  every  boy  in  turn. 
"  Stumps,  you  lout,  you've  had  too  much  beer  again  to- 
day." "  'T  wasn't  of  your  paying  for,  then."  "  Stumps' 
calves  are  running  down  into  his  ankles,  they  want  to 
get  to  grass."  Better  be  doing  that,  than  gone 
altogether  like  yours,"  etc.  etc.  Very  poor  stuff  it 
was,  but  it  served  to  make  time  pass ;  and  every  now 
and  then  Sally  arrived  in  the  middle  with  a  smoking 
tin  of  potatoes,  which  were  cleared  off  in  a  few 
seconds,  each  boy  as  he  seized  his  lot  running  off  to 
the  house  with  "  Put  me  down  two-penn'orth,  Sally  ; " 
"  Put  down  three-penn'orth,  between  me  and  Davis," 
etc.  How  she  ever  kept  the  accounts  so  straight  as 
she  did,  in  her  head  and  on  her  slate,  was  a  perfect 
wonder. 

East  and  Tom  got  served  at  last,  and  started  back 
for  the  school-house  just  as  the  locking-up  bell  began 
to  ring;  Bast  on  the  way  recounting  tb§  life  and 


110  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

adventures  of  Stumps,  who  was  a  character.  Among 
his  other  small  a\rocations,  he  was  the  hind  carrier  of 
a  sedan-chair,  the  last  of  its  race,  in  which  the  Rugby 
ladies  still  went  out  to  tea,  and  in  which,  when  he 
was  fairly  harnessed  and  carrying  a  load,  it  was  the 
delight  of  small  and  mischievous  boys  to  follow  him 
and  whip  his  calves.  This  was  too  much  for  the  temper 
even  of  Stumps,  and  he  would  pursue  his  tormentors 
in  a  vindictive  and  apoplectic  manner  when  released, 
but  was  easily  pacified  by  twopence  to  buy  beer  with. 
The  lower  school-boys  of  the  school-house,  some  fif- 
teen in  number,  had  tea  in  the  lower-fifth  school,  and 
were  presided  over  by  the  old  verger  or  head-porter. 
Each  boy  had  a  quarter  of  a  loaf  of  bread  and  pat  of 
butter,  and  as  much  tea  as  he  pleased  ;  and  there  was 
scarcely  one  who  didn't  add  to  this  some  further  luxury 
such  as  baked  potatoes,  a  herring,  sprats,  or  some- 
thing of  the  sort ;  but  few,  at  this  period  of  the  half- 
year,  could  live  up  to  a  pound  of  Porter's  sausages, 
and  East  was  in  great  magnificence  upon  the  strength 
of  theirs.  He  had  produced  a  toasting-fork  from  his 
study,  and  set  Tom  to  toast  the  sausages,  while  he 
mounted  guard  over  their  butter  and  potatoes ; 
" '  cause,"  as  he  explained,  "  you're  a  new  boy,  and 
they'll  play  you  some  trick  and  get  our  butter,  but 
you  can  toast  just  as  well  as  I."  So  Tom,  in  the  midst 
of  three  or  four  more  urchins  similarly  employed, 
toasted  his  face  and  the  sausages  at  the  same  time  be- 
fore the  huge  fire,  till  the  latter  cracked ;  when  East 
from  his  watch-tower  shouted  that  they  were  done ; 
and  then  the  feast  proceeded,  and  the  festive  cups  of 
tea  were  filled  and  emptied,  and  Tom  imparted  of  the 
sausages  in  small  bits  to  many  neighbors,  and  thought 
be  had  never  tasted  such  good  potatoes  or  seen  such 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  Ill 

jolly  boys.  They  on  their  parts  waived  all  ceremony, 
and  pegged  away  at  the  sausages  and  potatoes,  and, 
remembering  Tom's  performance  in  goal,  voted  East's 
new  crony  a  brick.  After  tea,  and  while  the  things 
were  being  cleared  away,  they  gathered  round  the 
fire,  and  the  talk  on  the  match  still  went  on ;  and 
those  who  had  them  to  show,  pulled  up  their  trousers 
and  showed  the  hacks  they  had  received  in  the  good 
cause. 

They  were  soon  however  all  turned  out  of  the  school 
and  East  conducted  Tom  up  to  his  bedroom,  that  he 
might  get  on  clean  things  and  wash  himself  before 
singing. 

"  "What's  singing  ?  "  said  Tom,  taking  his  head  out 
of  his  basin  where  he  had  been  plunging  it  in  cold 
water. 

""Well,  you  are  jolly  green,"  answered  his  friend 
from  the  neighboring  basin.  "  Why  the  last  six  Sat- 
urdays of  every  half,  we  sing,  of  course ;  and  this  is 
the  first  of  them.  No  first  lesson  to  do,  you  know,  and 
lie  in  bed  to-morrow  morning." 

"  But  who  sings?" 

"  Why  everybody,  of  course  ;  you'll  see  soon  enough. 
We  begin  directly  after  supper,  and  sing  till  bed-time. 
It  ain't  such  good  fun  now  though  as  in  the  summer 
half,  'cause  then  we  sing  in  the  little  fives' -court,  under 
the  library,  you  know.  We  take  our  tables,  and  the 
big  boys  sit  round,  and  drink  beer  ;  double  allowance 
on  Saturday  nights  ;  and  we  cut  about  the  quadrangle 
between  the  songs,  and  it  looks  like  a  lot  of  robbers  in 
a  cave.  And  the  louts  come  and  pound  at  the  great 
gates,  and  we  pound  back  again,  and  shout  at  them. 
But  this  half  we  only  sing  in  the  hall.  Come  along 
0own  to  my  study." 


112  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Their  principal  employment  in  the  study  was  to 
clear  out  East's  table,  removing  the  drawers  and 
ornaments  and  tablecloth ;  for  he  lived  in  the  bot- 
tom passage,  and  his  table  was  in  requisition  for  the 
singing. 

Supper  came  in  due  course  at  seven  o'clock,  consist- 
ing of  bread  and  cheese  and  beer,  which  was  all  saved 
for  the  singing ;  and  directly  afterward  the  fags  went 
to  work  to  prepare  the  hall.  The  school-house  hall, 
as  has  been  said,  is  a  great  long,  high  room,  with  two 
large  fires  on  one  side,  and  two  large  iron-bound  tables, 
one  running  down  the  middle,  and  the  other  along  the 
wall  opposite  the  fire-places.  Around  the  upper  fire 
the  fags  placed  the  tables  in  the  form  of  a  horse- 
shoe, and  upon  them  the  jugs  with  the  Saturday  night's 
allowance  of  beer.  Then  the  big  bo}rs  used  to  drop  in 
and  take  their  seats,  bringing  with  them  bottled  beer 
and  song-books  ;  for  although  they  all  knew  the  songs 
by  heart,  it  was  the  thing  to  have  an  old  manuscript 
book  descended  from  some  departed  hero,  in  which 
they  were  all  carefully  written  out. 

The  sixth-form  boys  had  not  yet  appeared  ;  so,  to 
fill  up  the  gap,  an  interesting  and  time-honored  cere- 
mony was  gone  through.  Each  new  boy  was  placed 
on  the  table  in  turn,  and  made  to  sing  a  solo,  under 
the  penalty  of  drinking  a  large  mug  of  salt  and  water 
if  he  resisted  or  broke  down.  Howrever,  the  new  boys 
all  sing  like  nightingales  to-night,  and  the  salt  water  is 
not  in  requisition  ;  Tom,  as  his  part,  performing  the 
old  west-county  song  of  "  The  Leathern  Bottel "  with 
considerable  applause.  And  at  the  half  hour  down 
come  the  sixth  and  fifth  form  boys,  and  take  their 
places  at  the  tables,  which  are  filled  up  by  the  next 
biggest  boys,  the  rest,  for  whom  there  is  no  room  at 
the  table,  standing  round  outside. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  113 

The  glasses  and  mugs  are  filled,  and  then  the  fugle- 
man strikes  up  the  old  sea  song — 

"A  wet  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea, 
And  a  wind  that  follows  fast,"  etc. 

which  is  the  invariable  first  song  in  the  school-house, 
and  all  the  seventy  voices  join  in,  not  mindful  of 
harmony,  but  bent  on  noise,  which  they  attain  de- 
cidedly ;  but  the  general  effect  isn't  bad.  And  then 
follow  the  "British  Grenadiers,"  "Billy  Taylor," 
"The  Siege  of  Serin gapatam,"  "Three  Jolly  Post- 
boys," and  other  vociferous  songs  in  rapid  succession, 
including  the  "  Chesapeake  and  Shannon  "  a  song 
lately  introduced  in  honor  of  old  Brooke ;  and  when 
they  come  to  the  words — 

"Brave  Broke  he  waved  his  sword, crying,  Now  my  lads,  aboard, 
And  we'll  stop  their  playing  Yankee-doodle-dandy  ohl  " 

you  expect  the  roof  to  come  down.  The  sixth  and 
fifth  know  that  "  brave  Broke"  of  the  Shannon  was  no 
sort  of  relation  to  our  old  Brooke.  The  fourth-form 
are  uncertain  in  their  belief,  but  for  the  most  part 
hold  that  old  Brooke  was  a  midshipman  then  on  board 
his  uncle's  ship.  And  the  lower  school  never  doubt 
for  a  moment  that  it  was  our  old  Brooke  who  led  the 
boarders,  in  what  capacity  they  care  not  a  straw. 
During  the  pauses  the  bottled -beer  corks  fly  rapidly, 
and  the  talk  is  fast  and  merry,  and  the  big  boys,  at 
least  all  of  them  who  have  a  fellow-feeling  for  dry 
throats,  hand  their  mugs  over  their  shoulders  to  be 
emptied  by  the  small  ones  who  stand  round  behind. 

Then  Warner,  the  head  of  the  house,  gets  up  and 
wants  to  speak,  but  he  can't  for  every  boy  knows 
what's  coming ;  and  the  big  boys  who  sit  at  the  tables 


114  TOM   BROWN  S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

pound  them  and  cheer ;  and  the  small  boys  who  stand 
behind  pound  one  another,  and  cheer,  and  rush  about 
the  hall  cheering.  Then  silence  being  made,  Warner 
reminds  them  of  the  old  school-house  custom  of  drink- 
ing the  healths,  on  the  first  night  of  singing,  of  those 
who  are  going  to  leave  at  the  end  of  the  half.  "  He 
sees  that  they  know  what  he  is  going  to  say  already— 
(loud  cheers) — and  so  won't  keep  them,  but  only  ask 
them  to  treat  the  toast  as  it  deserves.  It  is  the  head 
of  the  eleven,  the  head  of  the  big  side  football,  their 
leader  on  this  glorious  day — Peter  Brooke  !  " 

And  away  goes  the  pounding  and  cheering  again, 
becoming  deafening  when  old  Brooke  gets  on  his  legs ; 
till,  a  table  having  broken  down,  and  a  gallon  or  so  of 
beer  been  upset,  and  all  throats  getting  dry,  silence 
ensues,  and  the  hero  speaks,  leaning  his  hands  on  the 
table,  and  bending  a  little  forward.  No  action,  no 
tricks  of  oratory ;  plain,  strong,  and  straight,  like  his 
play. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  school-house !  1  am  very  proud 
of  the  way  in  which  you  have  received  my  name,  and 
I  wish  I  could  say  all  I  should  like  in  return.  But  I 
know  I  shan't.  However,  I'll  do  the  best  I  can  to  say 
what  seems  to  me  ought  to  be  said  by  a  fellow  who's 
just  going  to  leave,  and  who  has  spent  a  good  slice  of 
his  life  here.  Eight  years  it  is,  and  eight  such  years 
as  I  can  never  hope  to  have  again.  So  now  I  hope 
you'll  all  listen  to  me — (loud  cheers  of  '  that  we  will ') 
—for  I'm  going  to  talk  seriously.  You're  bound  to  lis- 
ten to  me ;  for  what's  the  use  of  calling  me  '  pater,' 
and  all  that,  if  you  don't  mind  what  I  say  ?  And  I'm 
going  to  talk  seriously,  because  I  feel  so.  It's  a  jolly 
time,  too,  getting  to  the  end  of  the  half,  and  a  goal 
kicked  by  us  first  day — (tremendous  applause) — after 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  115 

one  of  the  hardest  and  fiercest  day's  play  I  can  re- 
member in  eight  years — (frantic  shoutings).  The  school 
played  splendidly,  too,  I  will  say,  and  kept  it  up  to  the 
last.  That  last  charge  of  theirs  would  have  carried 
away  a  house.  1  never  thought  to  see  anything  again 
of  old  Crab  there,  except  little  pieces,  when  I  saw  him 
tumbled  over  by  it — (laughter  and  shouting,  and  great 
slapping  on  the  back  of  Jones  by  the  boys  nearest 
him).  Well,  but  we  beat  'em — (cheers).  Aye,  but  why 
did  we  beat  'em  ?  answer  me  that — (shouts  of  '  your 
play').  Nonsense!  'Twasn't  the  wind  and  kick-off 
either — that  wouldn't  do  it.  'Twasn't  because  we've 
half-a-dozen  of  the  best  players  in  the  school,  as  we 
have.  I  wouldn't  change  Warner,  and  Hedge,  and 
Crab,  and  the  young  un,  for  any  six  on  their  side — 
(violent  cheers).  But  half-a-dozen  fellows  can't  keep 
it  up  for  two  hours  against  two  hundred.  Why  is  it, 
then?  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think.  It's  because  we've 
more  reliance  on  one  another,  more  of  a  house  feeling, 
more  fellowship  than  the  school  can  have.  Each  of  us 
knows  and  can  depend  on  his  next  hand  man  better — 
that's  why  we  beat  'em  to-day.  We've  union,  they've 
division — there's  the  secret — (cheers).  But  how's  this 
to  be  kept  up  ?  How's  it  to  be  improved  ?  That's  the 
question.  For  I  take  it,  we're  all  in  earnest  about 
beating  the  school,  whatever  else  we  care  about.  I 
know  I'd  sooner  win  two  school-house  matches  run- 
ning than  get  the  Balliol  scholarship  any  day  — (fran- 
tic cheers). 

"  Now,  I'm  as  proud  of  the  house  as  any  one.  I 
believe  it's  the  best  house  in  the  school,  out-and-out — 
(cheers).  But  it's  a  long  way  from  what  I  want  to  see 
it.  First  there's  a  deal  of  bullying  going  on.  I  know 
it  well.  I  don't  pry  about  and  interfere;  that  only 


116  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

makes  it  more  underhand,  and  encourages  the  small 
boys  to  come  to  us  with  their  fingers  in  their  eyes 
telling  tales,  and  so  we  should  be  worse  off  than  ever. 
It's  very  little  kindness  for  the  sixth  to  meddle  gener- 
ally— you  youngsters,  mind  that.  You'll  be  all  the 
better  football  players  for  learning  to  stand  it,  and  to 
take  your  own  parts,  and  fight  it  through.  But  depend 
on  it,  there's  nothing  breaks  up  a  house  like  bullying. 
Bullies  are  cowards,  and  one  coward  makes  many ; 
so  good-bye  to  the  school-house  match  if  bullying  gets 
ahead  here.  (Loud  applause  from  the  small  boys,  who 
look  meaningly  at  Flashman  and  other  boys  at  the 
tables.)  Then  there's  fuddling  about  in  the  public- 
houses,  and  drinking  bad  spirits,  and  punch,  and  such 
rot-gut  stuff.  That  won't  make  good  drop-kicks  or 
chargers  of  you,  take  my  word  for  it.  You  get  plenty 
of  good  beer  here,  and  that's  enough  for  you ;  and 
drinking  isn't  fine  or  manly,  whatever  some  of  you 
may  think  of  it. 

"One  other  thing  I  must  have  a  word  about.  A 
lot  of  you  think  and  say,  for  I've  heard  you,  'There's 
this  new  doctor  hasn't  been  here  so  long  as  some  of  us, 
and  he's  changing  all  the  old  customs.  Rugby,  and 
the  school-house  especially,  are  going  to  the  dogs. 
Stand  up  for  the  good  old  ways,  and  down  with  the 
doctor! '  Now  I'm  as  fond  of  old  Rugby  customs  and 
ways  as  any  of  you,  and  I've  been  here  longer  than 
any  of  you,  and  I'll  give  you  a  word  of  advice  in  time, 
for  I  shouldn't  like  to  see  any  of  you  getting  sacked. 
*  Down  with  the  doctor ! '  is  easier  said  than  done. 
You'll  find  him  pretty  tight  on  his  perch,  I  take  it,  and 
an  awkwardish  customer  to  handle  in  that  line.  Be- 
sides now,  what  customs  has  he  put  down  ?  There 
wus  the  good  old  custom  of  taking  the  Jinch-pins  out 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  11? 

of  the  farmers'  and  bagmen's  gigs  at  the  fairs,  and  a 
cowardly  blackguard  custom  it  was.  We  all  know 
what  came  of  it ;  and  no  wonder  the  doctor  objected 
to  it.  But,  come  now,  any  of  you,  name  a  custom  that 
he  has  put  down." 

"The  hounds,"  calls  out  a  fifth-form  boy,  clad  in  a 
green  cutaway  with  brass  buttons  and  cord  trousers, 
the  leader  of  the  sporting  interest,  and  reputed  a  great 
rider  and  keen  hand  generally. 

"  Well,  we  had  six  or  seven  mangy  harriers  and 
beagles  belonging  to  the  house,  I'll  allow,  and  had  had 
them  for  years,  and  that  the  doctor  put  them  down. 
But  what  good  ever  came  of  them  ?  Only  rows  with 
all  the  keepers  for  ten  miles  round;  and  big-side  hare 
and  hounds  is  better  fun  ten  times  over.  What  else  ? " 

No  answer. 

"  Well,  I  won't  go  on.  Think  it  over  for  yourselves : 
you'll  find,  I  believe,  that  he  don't  meddle  with  any 
one  that's  worth  keeping.  And  mind  now,  I  say  again, 
look  out  for  squalls,  if  you  will  go  your  own  way,  and 
that  way  ain't  the  doctor's,  for  it'll  lead  to  grief.  You 
all  know  that  I'm  not  the  fellow  to  back  a  master 
through  thick  and  thin.  If  I  saw  him  stopping  foot- 
ball, or  cricket,  or  bathing,  or  sparring,  I'd  be  as  ready 
as  any  fellow  to  stand  up  about  it.  But  he  don't — he 
encourages  them ;  didn't  you  see  him  out  to-day  for 
half-an-hour  watching  us?  (loud  cheers  for  the  doctor) ; 
and  he's  a  strong,  true  man,  and  a  wise  one  too,  and  a 
public-school  man,  too.  (Cheers).  And  so  let's  stick  to 
him,  and  talk  no  more  rot,  and  drink  his  health  as  the 
head  of  the  house.  (Loud  cheers).  And  now  I've 
done  blowing  up,  and  very  glad  I  am  to  have  done. 
But  it's  a  solemn  thing  to  be  thinking  of  leaving  a 
place  which  one  has  lived  in  and  loved  for  eight  years ; 


118  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  if  one  can  say  a  word  for  the  good  of  the  old 
house  at  such  a  time,  why,  it  should  be  said,  whether 
bitter  or  sweet.  If  I  hadn't  been  proud  of  the  house 
and  you — aye  no  one  knows  how  proud — I  shouldn't 
be  blowing  you  up.  And  now  let's  get  to  singing. 
But  before  I  sit  down  I  must  give  you  a  toast  to  be 
drunk  with  three-times  three  and  all  the  honors.  It's 
a  toast  which  I  hope  every  one  of  us,  wherever  he 
may  go  hereafter,  will  never  fail  to  drink  when  he 
thinks  of  the  brave  bright  days  of  his  boyhood.  It's  a 
toast  which  should  bind  us  all  together,  and  to  those 
who've  gone  before,  and  who'll  come  after  us  here.  It 
is  the  dear  old  school-house — the  best  house  of  the  best 
school  in  England !  " 

My  dear  boys,  old  and  young,  you  who  have  be- 
longed, or  do  belong,  to  other  schools  and  other  houses, 
don't  begin  throwing  my  poor  little  book  about  the 
room,  and  abusing  me  and  it,  and  vowing  37ou'll  read 
no  more  when  you  get  to  this  point.  I  allow  you've 
provocation  for  it.  But,  come  now — would  you,  any 
of  you,  give  a  fig  for  a  fellow  who  didn't  believe  in, 
and  stand  up  for  his  own  house  and  his  own  school? 
You  know  you  wouldn't.  Then  don't  object  to  my 
cracking  up  the  old  school-house,  Eugby.  Haven't  I 
a  right  to  do  it,  when  I'm  taking  all  the  trouble  of 
writing  this  true  history  for  all  your  benefits  ?  If  you 
ain't  satisfied,  go  and  write  the  history  of  your  own 
houses  in  your  own  times,  and  say  all  you  know  for 
your  own  schools  and  houses,  provided  it's  true,  and 
I'll  read  it  without  abusing  you. 

The  last  few  words  hit  the  audience  in  their  weakest 
place ;  they  had  been  not  altogether  enthusiastic  at 
several  parts  of  old  Brooke's  speech  ;  but  "  the  best 
house  of  the  best  school  in  England  "  was  too  much 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  119 

for  them  all,  and  carried  even  the  sporting  and  drink- 
ing interests  off  their  legs  into  rapturous  applause, 
and  (it  is  to  be  hoped)  resolutions  to  lead  a  new  life 
and  remember  old  Brooke's  words ;  which,  however, 
they  didn't  altogether  do,  as  will  appear  hereafter. 

But  it  required  all  old  Brooke's  popularity  to  carry 
down  parts  of  his  speech  ;  especially  that  relating  to 
the  doctor.  For  there  are  no  such  bigoted  holders 
by  established  forms  and  customs,  be  they  never  so 
foolish  or  meaningless,  as  English  school-boys— at 
least,  as  the  school-boy  of  our  generation.  "We  mag- 
nified into  heroes  every  boy  who  had  left,  and  looked 
upon  him  with  awe  and  reverence,  when  he  revisited 
the  place  a  year  or  so  afterward,  on  his  way  to  or 
from  Oxford  or  Cambridge ;  and  happy  was  the  boy 
who  remembered  him,  and  sure  of  an  audience  as  he 
expounded  what  he  used  to  do  and  say,  though  it  were 
sad  enough  stuff  to  make  angels,  not  to  say  head-mas- 
ters weep. 

We  looked  upon  every  trumpery  little  custom  and 
habit  which  had  obtained  in  the  school  as  though  it 
had  been  a  law  of  the  Medes  and  Persians,  and  re- 
garded the  infringement  or  variation  of  it  as  a  sort  of 
sacrilege.  And  the  doctor,  than  whom  no  man  or  boy 
had  a  stronger  liking  for  old  school  customs  which 
were  good  and  sensible,  had,  as  has  already  been 
hinted,  come  into  most  decided  collision  with  several 
which  were  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  And  as 
old  Brooke  had  said,  when  he  came  into  collision  with 
boys  or  customs,  there  was  nothing  for  them  but  to 
give  in  or  take  themselves  off ;  because  what  he  said 
had  to  be  done,  and  no  mistake  about  it.  And  this 
was  beginning  to  be  pretty  clearly  understood  ;  the 
boys  felt  tliat  there  was  a  strong  man  over  them,  who 


120  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

would  have  things  his  own  way ;  and  hadn't  yet 
learned  that  he  was  a  wise  and  loving  man  also.  His 
personal  character  and  influence  had  not  had  time  to 
make  itself  felt,  except  by  a  very  few  of  the  bigger 
boys,  with  whom  he  came  more  directly  in  contact ; 
and  he  Avas  looked  upon  with  great  fear  and  dislike  by 
the  great  majority  even  of  his  own  house.  For  he  had 
found  school,  and  school-house,  in  a  state  of  monstrous 
license  and  misrule,  and  was  still  employed  in  the  neces- 
sary but  unpopular  work  of  setting  up  order  with  a 
strong  hand. 

However,  as  has  been  said,  old  Brooke  triumphed 
and  the  boys  cheered  him  and  then  the  doctor. 
And  then  more  songs  came,  and  the  healths  of  the 
other  boys  about  to  leave,  who  each  made  a 
speech,  one  flowery,  another  maudlin,  a  third  prosy, 
and  so  on,  which  are  not  necessary  to  be  here  re- 
corded. 

Half  past  nine  struck  in  the  middle  of  the  perform- 
ance of  "  Auld  Lang  Syne,"  a  most  obstreperous  pro- 
ceeding; during  which  there  was  an  immense  amount 
of  standing  with  one  foot  on  the  table,  knocking  mugs 
together  and  shaking  hands,  without  which  accompan- 
iments it  seems  impossible  for  the  youth  of  Britain  to 
take  part  in  that  famous  old  song.  The  under-porter 
of  the  school-house  entered  during  the  performance, 
bearing  five  or  six  long  wooden  candlesticks  with 
lighted  dips  in  them,  which  he  proceeded  to  stick 
into  their  holes  in  such  part  of  the  great  tables 
as  he  could  get  at ;  and  then  stood  outside  the 
ring  till  the  end  of  the  song,  when  he  was  hailed  with 
shouts. 

"  Bill,  you  old  muff,  the  half  hour  hasn't  struck." 
"  Here,  Bill,  drink  some  cock-tall."  "  Sing  us  a  song 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  121 

old  boy."  "  Don't  you  wish  you  may  get  the  table  ?  " 
Bill  drank  the  profferred  cocktail  not  unwillingly,  and 
putting  down  the  empty  glass,  remonstrated,  "Now, 
gentlemen,  there's  only  ten  minutes  to  prayers,  and  we 
must  get  the  hall  straight." 

Shouts  of  "  No,  no ! "  and  a  violent  effort  to  strike 
up  "  Billy  Taylor  "  for  the  third  time.  Bill  looked 
appealingly  to  old  Brooke,  who  got  up  and  stopped 
the  noise.  "  Now  then,  lend  a  hand,  you  youngsters, 
and  get  the  tables  back ;  clear  away  the  jugs  and 
glasses.  Bill's  right.  Open  the  windows,  Warner." 
The  boy  addressed,  who  sat  by  the  long  ropes,  pro- 
ceeded to  pull  up  the  great  windows,  and  let  in  a  clear 
fresh  rush  of  night  air,  which  made  the  candles 
flickerand  gutter,  and  the  fires  roar.  The  circle  broke  up, 
each  collaring  his  own  jug,  glass,  and  song-book;  Bill 
pounced  on  the  big  table,  and  began  to  rattle  it  away 
to  its  place  outside  the  buttery -door.  The  lower-pas- 
sage boys  carried  off  their  small  tables,  aided  by  their 
friends,  while  above  all,  standing  on  the  great  hall-table, 
a  knot  of  untiring  sons  of  harmony  made  night  doleful 
by  a  prolonged  performance  of  "  God  save  the  King." 
His  majesty  King  William  IV.  then  reigned  over  us,  a 
monarch  deservedly  popular  among  the  boys  addicted 
to  melody,  to  whom  he  was  chiefly  known  from  the 
beginning  of  that  excellent,  if  slightly  vulgar,  song  in 
which  they  much  delighted — 

"  Come,  neighbors  all  both  great  and  small, 

Perform  your  duties  here, 
And  loudly  sing  '  live  Billy  our  king,' 

For  bating  the  tax  upon  beer." 

Others  of  the  more  learned  in  songs  also  celebrated  his 
praises  in  the  sort  of  ballad,  which  I  take  to  have  been 


122  TOM  BUOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

written  by  some  Irish  loyalist.  I  have  forgotten  all 
but  the  chorus,  which  ran — 

"God  save  our  good  King  William,  be  bis  name  forever  blessed; 
He's  the  father  of  all  his  people,  and  the  guardian  of  all  the  rest." 

In  troth,  we  were  loyal  subjects  in  those  days,  in  a 
rough  way.  I  trust  that  our  successors  make  as  much 
of  her  present  majesty,  and,  having  regard  to  the 
greater  refinement  of  the  times,  have  adopted  or  written 
other  songs  equally  hearty,  but  more  civilized,  in  her 
honor. 

Then  the  quarter  to  ten  struck,  and  the  prayer-bell 
rang.  The  sixth  and  fifth  form  boys  ranged  themselves 
in  their  school  order  along  the  wall,  on  either  side  of 
the  great  fires,  the  middle  fifth  and  upper-school  boys 
round  the  long  table  in  the  middle  of  the  hall,  and  the 
lower-school  boys  round  the  upper  part  of  the  second 
long  table,  which  ran  down  the  side  of  the  hall  furthest 
from  the  fires.  Here  Tom  found  himself  at  the  bottom 
of  all,  in  a  state  of  mind  and  body  not  at  all  fit  for 
prayers,  as  he  thought ;  and  so  tried  hard  to  make 
himself  serious,  but  couldn't  for  the  life  of  him,  do 
anything  but  repeat  in  his  head  the  choruses  of  some 
of  the  songs,  and  stare  at  all  the  boys  opposite,  won- 
dering at  the  brilliancy  of  their  waistcoats,  and  specu- 
lating what  sort  of  fellows  they  were.  The  steps  of 
the  head-porter  are  heard  on  the  stairs,  and  a  light 
gleams  at  the  door.  "  Hush ! "  from  the  fifth-form 
boys  who  stand  there,  and  then  in  strides  the  doctor, 
cap  on  head,  book  in  one  hand,  and  gathering  up  his 
gown  in  the  other.  He  walks  up  the  middle,  and 
takes  his  post  by  Warner,  who  begins  calling  over  the 
names.  The  doctor  takes  no  notice  of  anything,  but 
quietly  turns  over  his  book  and  finds  the  place,  and. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

then  stands,  cap  in  hand  and  finger  in  book,  looking 
straight  before  his  nose.  He  knows  better  than  any 
one  when  to  look,  and  when  to  see  nothing  ;  to-night 
is  singing  night,  and  there's  been  lots  of  noise  and  no 
harm  done  ;  nothing  but  beer  drunk,  and  nobody  the 
worse  for  it ;  though  some  of  them  do  look  hot  and 
excited.  So  the  doctor  sees  nothing,  but  fascinates 
Tom  in  a  horrible  manner  as  he  stands  there,  and 
reads  out  the  Psalm  in  that  deep,  ringing,  searching 
voice  of  his.  Prayers  are  over,  and  Tom  still  stares 
open-mouthed  after  the  doctor's  retiring  figure,  when 
he  feels  a  pull  at  his  sleeve,  and  turning  round,  sees 
East. 

"  I  say,  were  you  ever  tossed  in  a  blanket  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Tom  ;  "  why  ?  " 

"'Cause  there'll  be  tossing  to-night,  most  likely, 
before  the  sixth  come  up  to  bed.  So  if  you  funk,  you 
just  come  along  and  hide,  or  else  they'll  catch  you  and 
toss  you." 

"Were  you  ever  tossed  ?  Does  it  hurt?"  inquired 
Tom. 

"  Oh  yes,  bless  you,  a  dozen  times,"  said  East,  as  he 
hobbled  along  by  Tom's  side  up-stairs.  "  It  don't  hurt 
unless  you  fall  on  the  floor.  But  most  fellows  don't 
like  it."" 

They  stopped  at  the  fireplace  in  the  top  passage, 
where  were  a  crowd  of  small  boys  whispering  together, 
and  evidently  unwilling  to  go  up  into  the  bedrooms. 
In  a  minute,  however,  a  study  door  opened,  and  a 
sixth-form  boy  came  out,  and  off  they  all  scuttled  up 
the  stairs,  and  then  noiselessly  dispersed  to  their 
different  rooms.  Tom's  heart  beat  rather  quick  as  he 
and  East  reached  their  room,  but  he  had  made  up  his 
mind.  "  I  shan't  hide,  East,"  said  he. 


124  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Very  well,  old  fellow,"  replied  East,  evidently 
pleased ;  "  no  more  shall  I — they'll  be  here  for  us 
directly." 

The  room  was  a  great  big  one,  with  a  dozen  beds  in 
it,  but  not  a  boy  that  Tom  could  see,  except  East  and 
himself.  East  pulled  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  and 
then  sat  on  the  bottom  of  his  bed,  whistling,  and  pull- 
ing off  his  boots;  Tom  followed  his  example, 

A  noise  and  steps  are  heard  in  the  passage,  the  door 
opens,  and  in  lush  four  or  five  great  fifth-form  boys, 
headed  by  Flashman  in  his  glory. 

Tom  and  East  slept  in  the  farther  corner  of  the  room, 
and  were  not  seen  at  first. 

"  Gone  to  ground,  eh  ? "  roared  Flashman  ;  "  push 
'em  out  then,  boys  !  look  under  the  beds : "  and  he 
pulled  out  the  little  white  curtain  of  the  one  nearest 
him.  "Who-o-op,"  he  roared,  pulling  away  at  the 
leg  of  a  small  boy,  who  held  on  tight  to  the  leg  of  the 
bed,  and  sung  out  lustily  for  mercy. 

"  Here,  lend  a  hand  one  of  you,  and  help  me  pull 
out  this  young  howling  brute.  Hold  your  tongue,  sir, 
or  Til  kill  you?' 

"Oh,  please,  Flashman,  please,  Walker,  don't  toss  me! 
I'll  fag  for  you,  I'll  do  anything,  only  don't  toss  me." 

"You  be  hanged,"  said  Flashman,  lugging  the 

wretched  boy  along,  "  'twont  hurt  you, you  ! 

Come  along,  boys,  here  he  is." 

"  I  say,  Flashy,"  sung  out  another  of  the  big  boys, 
"drop  that;  you  heard  what  old  Pater  Brooke  said 
to-night.  I'll  be  hanged  if  we'll  toss  any  one  against 
their  will — no  more  bullying.  Lot  him  go,  I  say." 

Flashman,  with  an  oath  and  a  kick,  released  his 
prey,  who  rushed  headlong  under  his  bed  again,  for 
fear  they  should  change  their  minds,  and  crept  along 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  125 

underneath  the  other  beds,  till  he  got  under  that  of  the 
sixth -for  in  boy,  which  he  knew  they  daren't  disturb. 

"  There's  plenty  of  youngsters  don't  care  about  it," 
said  Walker.  "  Here,  here's  Scud  East — you'll  be  tossed, 
won't  you,  young  un  ? "  Scud  was  East's  nickname, 
or  Black,  as  we  called  it,  gained  by  his  fleetness  of 
foot. 

"  Yes,"  said  East,  "  if  you  like,  only  mind  my  foot." 

"And  here's  another  who  didn't  hide.  Hullo!  new 
boy;  what's  your  name,  sir?" 

"Brown." 

"  Well,  Whitey  Brown,  you  don't  mind  being 
tossed  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  setting  his  teeth. 

"  Come  along,  then,  boys,"  sung  out  Walker ;  and 
away  they  all  went,  carrying  along  Tom  and  East,  to 
the  intense  relief  of  four  or  five  other  small  boys,  who 
crept  out  from  under  the  beds  and  behind  them. 

"  What  a  trump  Scud  is,"  said  one.  "  They  won't 
come  back  here  now." 

"  And  that  new  boy,  too ;  he  must  be  a  good  plucked 
one." 

"  Ah !  wait  till  he  has  been  tossed  on  to  the  floor ; 
see  how  he'll  like  it  then  ! " 

Meantime  the  procession  went  down  the  passage  to 
Number  7,  the  largest  room,  and  the  scene  of  tossing, 
in  the  middle  of  which  was  a  great  open  space.  Here 
they  joined  other  parties  of  the  bigger  boys,  each  with 
a  captive  or  two,  some  willing  to  be  tossed,  some  sul- 
len, and  some  frightened  to  death.  At  Walker's  sug- 
gestion, all  who  were  afraid  were  let  off,  in  honor  of 
Pater  Brooke's  speech. 

Then  a  dozen  big  boys  seized  hold  of  a  blanket 
tl ragged  from  one  of  tbe  beds,  "In  with iSgud,  quick  j 


126  TOM    BROWN  S   SCHOOL  DAYS. 

there's  no  time  to  lose."  East  was  chucked  into  the 
blanket.  "  Once,  twice,  thrice,  and  away  ;  "  up  he 
went  like  a  shuttlecock,  but  not  quite  up  to  the  ceil- 
ing. 

"  Now,  boys,  with  a  will,"  cried  Walker,  "  once, 
twice,  three,  and  away ! "  This  time  he  went  clean 
up,  and  kapt  himself  from  touching  the  ceiling  with 
his  hand;  and  so  again  a  third  time,  when  he  was 
turned  out,  and  up  went  another  boy.  And  then  came 
Tom's  turn.  He  lay  quite  still,  by  East's  advice,  and 
didn't  dislike  the  "once,  twice,  thrice;"  but  the 
"  away  "  wasn't  so  pleasant.  They  were  in  good  wind 
now,  and  sent  him  slap  up  to  the  ceiling  first  time, 
against  which  his  knees  came  rather  sharply.  But  the 
moment's  pause  before  descending  was  the  rub,  the 
feeling  of  utter  helplessness,  and  of  leaving  his  whole 
inside  behind  him  sticking  to  the  ceiling.  Tom  was 
very  near  shouting  to  be  set  down,  when  he  found 
himself  back  in  the  blanket,  but  thought  of  East,  and 
didn't ;  and  so  took  his  three  tosses  without  a  kick  or 
a  cry,  and  was  called  a  young  trump  for  his  pains. 

He  and  East,  having  earned  it,  stood  now  looking 
on.  No  catastrophe  happened,  as  all  the  captives  were 
cool  hands,  and  didn't  struggle.  This  didn't  suit 
Flashman.  What  your  real  bully  likes  in  tossing,  is 
Avhen  the  boys  kick  and  struggle,  or  hold  on  to  one 
side  of  the  blanket,  and  so  get  pitched  bodily  on  to 
the  floor ;  it's  no  fun  to  him  when  no  one  is  hurt  or 
frightened. 

"  Let's  toss  two  of  them  together,  Walker,"  sug- 
gested he. 

"  What  a  cursed  bully  you  are,  Flashy,"  rejoined 
the  other.  "  Up  with  another  one." 

And  so  no  two  boys  were  tossed  together,  the  peculiar 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS.  127 

hardship  of  which  is,  that  it's  too  much  for  human 
nature  to  lie  still  then  and  share  troubles  ;  and  so  the 
wretched  pair  of  small  boys  struggle  in  the  air  which 
shall  fall  a-top  in  the  descent,  to  the  no  small  risk  of 
both  falling  out  of  the  blanket,  and  the  huge  delight 
of  brutes  like  Flashman. 

But  now  there's  a  cry  that  the  praepostor  of  the 
room  is  coming ;  so  the  tossing  stops,  and  all  scatter  to 
their  different  rooms  :  and  Tom  is  left  to  turn  in,  with 
the  first  day's  experience  of  a  public  school  to  medi- 
tate upon. 


128  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS 


CHAPTER  YII. 

SETTLING   TO   THE   COLLAR. 

Says  Giles,  "  Tis  mortal  bard  to  go  ; 

But  if  so  be's  I  must, 
I  means  to  follow  arter  lie 

As  goes  liisself  the  fust." — Ballad. 

EVERYBODY,  I  suppose,  knows  the  dreamy  delicious 
state  in  which  one  lies,  half  asleep,  half  awake,  while 
consciousness  begins  to  return,  after  a  sound  night's 
rest  in  a  new  place  which  we  are  glad  to  be  in,  follow- 
ing upon  a  day  of  unwonted  excitement  and  exertion. 
There  are  few  pleasanter  pieces  of  life.  The  worst  of 
it  is  that  they  last  such  a  short  time  ;  for,  nurse  them 
as  you  will,  by  lying  perfectly  passive  in  mind  and 
body,  you  can't  make  more  than  five  minutes  or  so  of 
them.  After  which  time,  the  stupid,  obtrusive,  wake- 
ful entity  which  we  call  "  I,"  as  impatient  as  he  is 
stiff  necked,  spite  of  our  teeth  will  force  himself  back 
again,  and  take  possession  of  us  down  to  our  very 
toes. 

It  was  in  this  state  that  Master  Tom  lay  at  half- 
past  seven  on  the  morning  following  the  day  of  his 
arrival,  and  from  his  clean  little  white  bed  watched 
the  movements  of  Bogle  (the  generic  name  by  which 
the  successive  shoeblacks  of  the  school-house  were 
known),  as  he  marched  round  from  bed  to  bed,  collect- 
ing the  dirty  shoes  and  boots,  and  depositing  clean 
ones  in  their  places. 


•TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  129 

There  he  lay,  half  doubtful  as  to  where  exactly  in. 
the  universe  he  was,  but  conscious  that  he  had  made 
a  step  in  life  which  he  had  been  anxious  to  make.  It 
was  only  just  light  as  he  looked  lazily  out  of  the  wide 
windows,  and  saw  the  tops  of  the  great  elms,  and  the 
rooks  circling  about,  and  cawing  remonstrances  to  the 
lazy  ones  of  their  commonwealth,  before  starting  in  a 
body  for  the  neighboring  plowed  fields.  The  noise 
of  the  room-door  closing  behind  Bogle,  as  he  made  his 
exit  with  the  shoe-basket  under  his  arm,  roused  Tom 
thoroughly,  and  he  sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  round  the 
room.  What  in  the  world  could  be  the  matter  with 
his  shoulders  and  loins  ?  He  felt  as  if  he  had  been 
severely  beaten  all  down  his  back,  the  natural  result 
of  his  performance  at  his  first  match.  He  drew  up  his 
knees  and  rested  his  chin  on  them,  and  went  over  all 
the  events  of  yesterday,  rejoicing  in  his  new  life,  what 
he  had  seen  of  it,  and  all  that  was  to  come. 

Presently  one  or  two  of  the  other  boys  roused  them- 
selves, and  began  to  sit  up  and  talk  to  one  another  in 
low  tones.  Then  East,  after  a  roll  or  two,  came  to  an 
anchor  also,  and,  nodding  to  Tom,  began  examining 
his  ankle. 

"  What  a  pull,"  said  he,  "  that  it's  lie-in-bed,  for  I 
shall  be  as  lame  as  a  tree,  I  think." 

It  was  Sunday  morning,  and  Sunday  lectures  had 
not  yet  been  established ;  so  that  nothing  but  breakfast 
intervened  between  bed  and  eleven  o'clock  chapel — a 
gap  by  no  means  easy  to  fill  up  :  in  fact,  though  re- 
ceived with  the  correct  amount  of  grumbling,  the  first 
lecture  instituted  by  the  doctor  shortly  afterward  was 
a  great  boon  to  the  school.  It  was  lie  in  bed,  and  no 
one  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  up,  especially  in  rooms 
where  the  sixth-form  boy  was  a  good-tempered  fellow, 


130  TOM  BROWN'S  SCIIOOL  DAYS. 

as  was  the  case  in  Tom's  room,  and  allowed  the  small 
boys  to  talk  and  laugh,  and  do  pretty  much  what  they 
pleased,  so  long  as  they  didn't  disturb  him.  His  bed 
was  a  bigger  one  than  the  rest,  standing  in  the  corner 
by  the  fireplace,  with  a  washing-stand  and  large  basin 
by  the  side,  where  he  lay  in  state,  with  his  white  cur- 
tains tucked  in  so  as  to  form  a  retiring  place :  an  awful 
subject  of  contemplation  to  Tom,  who  slept  nearly  op- 
posite, and  watched  the  great  man  rouse  himself  and 
take  a  book  from  under  his  pillow,  and  begin  reading, 
leaning  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  turning  his  back  to 
the  room.  Soon,  however,  a  noise  of  striving  urchins 
arose,  and  muttered  encouragements  from  the  neigh- 
boring boys,  of — "  Go  it,  Tadpole ! "  "  Now,  young 
Green ! "  "  Haul  away  his  blanket ! "  "  Slipper  him 
on  the  hands!"  Young  Green  and  little  Hall,  com- 
monly called  Tadpole,  from  his  great  black  head  and 
thin  legs,  slept  side  by  side  far  away  by  the  door,  and 
were  forever  playing  one  another  tricks,  which  usually 
ended,  as  on  this  morning,  in  open  and  violent  collision  : 
and  now,  unmindful  of  all  order  and  authority,  there 
they  were,  each  hauling  away  at  the  other's  bed-clothes 
with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other,  armed  with  a 
slipper,  belaboring  whatever  portion  of  the  body  of 
his  adversary  came  within  reach. 

"  Hold  that  noise,  up  in  the  corner,"  called  out  the 
prrepostor,  sitting  up  and  looking  round  his  curtains  ; 
and  the  Tadpole  and  young  Green  sank  down  into 
their  disordered  beds,  and  then,  looking  at  his  watch, 
added :  "  Hullo,  past  eight  —  whose  turn  for  hot 
water  ? " 

(Where  the  prgepostor  was  particular  in  his  ablu- 
tions, the  fags  in  his  room  had  to  descend  in  turn  to 
the  kitchen,  and  beg  or  steal  hot  water  for  him  ;  and 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  131 

often  the  custom  extended  further,  and  two  boys  went 
down  every  morning  to  get  a  supply  for  the  whole 
room). 

"  East's  and  Tadpole's,"  answered  the  senior  fag,  who 
kept  the  rota. 

"  I  can't  go,"  said  East ;  "  I'm  dead  lame." 

"  Well,  be  quick,  some  of  you,  that's  all,"  said  the 
great  man,  as  he  turned  out  of  bed,  and  putting  on  his 
slippers,  went  out  into  the  great  passage  which  runs 
the  whole  length  of  the  bedrooms,  to  get  his  Sunday 
habiliments  out  of  his  portmanteau. 

"  Let  me  go  for  you,"  said  Tom  to  East,  "  I  should 
like  it." 

"  Well,  thank'ee,  that's  a  good  fellow.  Just  pull  on 
your  trousers,  and  take  your  jug  and  mine.  Tadpole 
will  show  you  the  way." 

And  so  Tom  and  the  Tadpole,  in  night-shirts  and 
trousers,  started  off  down  stairs,  and  through  "  Thos' 
hole,"  as  the  little  buttery,  where  candles  and  beer 
and  bread  and  cheese  were  served  out  at  night,  was 
called ;  across  the  school-house  court,  down  a  long 
passage,  and  into  the  kitchen  ;  where,  after  some  par- 
ley with  the  stalwart,  handsome  cook,  who  declared 
that  she  had  filled  a  dozen  jugs  already,  they  got 
their  hot  water,  and  returned  with  all  speed  and  great 
caution.  As  it  was,  they  narrowly  escaped  capture 
by  some  privateers  from  the  fifth  form  rooms,  who 
were  on  the  look-out  for  the  hot-water  convoys,  and 
pursued  them  up  to  the  very  door  of  their  room,  mak- 
ing them  spill  half  their  load  in  the  passage.  "  Better 
than  going  down  again  though,"  Tadpole  remarked 
"  as  we  should  have  had  to  do,  if  those  beggars  had 
caught  us." 

By  the  time  that  the  calling-over  bell  rang,  Tom 


132  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  his  new  comrades  were  all  down,  dressed  in  their 
best  clothes,  and  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  answering 
"here"  to  his  name  for  the  first  time,  the  praepostor  of 
the  week  having  put  it  in  at  the  bottom  of  his  list.  And 
then  came  breakfast,  and  a  saunter  about  the  close  and 
town  with  East,  whose  lameness  only  became  severe 
when  any  fagging  had  to  be  done.  And  so  they  whiled 
away  the  time  until  morning  chapel. 

It  was  a  fine  November  morning,  and  the  close  soon 
became  alive  with  boys  of  all  ages,  who  sauntered  about 
on  the  grass,  or  walked  round  the  gravel  walk,  in 
parties  of  two  or  three.  East,  still  doing  the  cicerone, 
pointed  out  all  the  remarkable  characters  to  Tom  as 
they  passed :  Osbert,  who  could  throw  a  cricket-ball 
from  the  little-side  ground  over  the  rook  trees  to  the 
doctor's  wall ;  Gray,  who  had  got  the  Balliol  scholar- 
ship, and,  what  East  evidently  thought  of  much  more 
importance,  a  half-holiday  for  the  school  by  his  suc- 
cess ;  Thome,  who  had  run  ten  miles  in  two  minutes 
over  the  hour ;  Black,  who  had  held  his  own  against 
the  cock  of  the  town  in  the  last  row  with  the  louts ; 
and  many  more  heroes,  who  then  and  there  walked 
about  and  were  worshiped,  all  trace  of  whom  has  long 
since  vanished  from  the  scene  of  their  fame  ;  and  the 
fourth-form  boy  who  reads  their  names  rudely  cut  out 
on  the  old  hall  tables,  or  painted  upon  the  big 
side-cupboard  (if  hall  tables,  and  big  side-cupboards, 
still  exist),  wonders  what  manner  of  boys  they  were. 
It  will  be  the  same  with  you  who  wonder,  my  sons, 
whatever  your  prowess  may  be,  in  cricket,  or  scholar- 
ship, or  football.  Two  or  three  years,  more  or  less, 
and  then  the  steadily  advancing,  blessed  wave  will 
pass  over  your  names  as  it  has  passed  over  ours.  Nev- 
ertheless, play  your  games  and  do  your  work  manfully 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL   DAYS.  133 

• — see  only  that  that  be  done,  and  let  the  remembrance 
of  it  take  care  of  itself. 

The  chapel-bell  began  to  ring  at  a  quarter  to  eleven, 
and  Tom  got  in  early  and  took  his  place  in  the  lowest 
row,  and  watched  all  the  other  boys  come  in  and  take 
their  places,  filling  row  after  row  :  and  tried  to  con- 
strue the  Greek  text  which  was  inscribed  over  the  door 
with  the  slightest  possible  success,  and  wondered  which 
of  the  masters,  who  walked  down  the  chapel  and  took 
their  seats  in  the  exalted  boxes  at  the  end,  would  be 
his  lord.  And  then  came  the  closing  of  the  doors,  and 
the  doctor  in  his  robes,  and  the  service,  which,  how- 
ever, didn't  impress  him  much,  for  his  feeling  of  won- 
der and  curiosity  was  too  strong.  And  the  boy  on  one 
side  of  him  was  scratching  his  name  on  the  oak  panel- 
ing in  front,  and  he  couldn't  help  watching  to  see 
what  the  name  was,  and  whether  it  was  well  scratched  ; 
and  the  boy  on  the  other  side  went  to  sleep  and  kept 
falling  against  him  ;  and  on  the  whole,  though  many 
boys  even  in  that  part  of  the  school  were  serious  and 
attentive,  the  general  atmosphere  was  by  no  means 
devotional ;  and  when  he  got  out  into  the  close  again, 
he  didn't  feel  at  all  comfortable,  or  as  if  he  had  been 
to  church. 

But  at  afternoon  chapel  it  was  quite  another  thing. 
He  had  spent  the  time  after  dinner  in  writing  home  to 
his  mother,  and  so  was  in  a  better  frame  of  mind ;  and 
his  first  curiosity  was  over,  and  he  could  attend  more 
to  the  service.  As  the  h\rmn  after  the  prayers  wras  be- 
ing sung,  and  the  chapel  was  getting  a  little  dark,  he 
was  beginning  to  feel  that  he  had  been  really  worship- 
ing. And  then  came  that  great  event  in  his,  as  in 
every  Rugby  boy's  life  of  that  day — the  first  sermon 
from  the  doctor. 


134  TOM   BROWNS   SCHOOL   DAYS. 

More  worthy  pens  than  mine  have  described  that 
scene.  The  oak  pulpit  standing  out  by  itself  above  the 
school  seats.  The  tall  gallant  form,  the  kindling  eye, 
the  voice,  now  soft  as  the  low  notes  of  a  flute,  now 
clear  and  stirring  as  the  call  of  the  light  infantry  bugle, 
of  him  who  stood  there  Sunday  after  Sunday,  witness- 
ing and  pleading  for  his  Lord,  the  King  of  righteous- 
ness and  love  and  glory,  with  whose  spirit  he  was  filled, 
and  in  whose  power  he  spoke.  The  long  lines  of  young 
faces,  rising  tier  above  tier  down  the  whole  length  of 
the  chapel,  from  the  little  boy's  who  had  just  left  his 
mother  to  the  young  man's  who  was  going  out  next 
week  into  the  great  world  rejoicing  in  his  strength. 
It  was  a  great  and  solemn  sight,  and  never  more  so 
than  at  this  time  of  year,  when  the  only  lights  in  the 
chapel  were  in  the  pulpit  and  at  the  seats  of  the  prae- 
posters  of  the  week,  and  the  soft  twilight  stole  over 
the  rest  of  the  chapel,  deepening  into  darkness  in  the 
high  gallery  behind  the  organ. 

But  what  was  it  after  all  which  seized  and  held 
these  three  hundred  boys,  dragging  them  out  of  them- 
selves, willing  or  unwilling,  for  twenty  minutes,  on 
Sunday  afternoon  ?  True,  there  always  were  boys 
scattered  up  and  down  the  school,  who  in  heart  and 
head  were  worthy  to  hear  and  able  to  carry  away  the 
deepest  and  wisest  words  there  spoken.  But  these 
were  a  minority  always,  generally  a  very  small  one, 
often  so  small  a  one  as  to  be  countable  on  the  fingers 
of  your  hand.  What  was  it  that  moved  and  held  us, 
the  rest  of  the  three  hundred  reckless,  childish  boys, 
who  feared  the  doctor  with  all  our  hearts,  and  very 
little  besides  in  heaven  or  earth  :  who  thought  more  of 
our  sets  in  the  school  than  of  the  Church  of  Christ, 
and  put  the  traditions  of  Rugby  and  the  public  op  in- 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  135 

ion  of  boys  in  our  daily  life  above  the  laws  of  God  ? 
We  couldn't  enter  into  half  that  we  heard ;  we  hadn't 
the  knowledge  of  our  own  hearts  or  the  knowledge  of 
one  another ;  and  little  enough  of  the  faith,  hope,  and 
love  needed  to  that  end.  But  we  listened,  as  all  boys 
in  their  better  moods  will  listen  (aye,  and  men  too,  for 
the  matter  of  that),  to  a  man  who  we  felt  to  be,  with 
all  his  heart  and  soul  and  strength,  striving  against 
whatever  was  mean  and  unmanly  and  unrighteous  in 
our  little  world.  It  was  not  the  cold  clear  voice  of  one 
giving  advice  and  warning  from  serene  heights  to  those 
who  were  struggling  and  sinning  below,  but  the  warm, 
living  voice  of  one  who  was  fighting  for  us  and  by  our 
sides,  and  calling  on  us  to  help  him  and  ourselves  and 
one  another.  And  so,  wearily  and  little  by  little,  but 
surely  and  steadily  on  the  whole,  was  brought  home 
to  the  young  boy  for  the  first  time,  the  meaning  of  his 
life :  that  it  was  no  fool's  or  sluggard's  paradise  into 
which  he  had  wandered  by  chance,  but  a  battle-field 
ordained  from  of  old,  where  there  are  no  spectators, 
but  the  youngest  must  take  his  side,  and  the  stakes  are 
life  and  death.  And  he  who  roused  his  consciousness 
in  them  showed  them  at  the  same  time,  by  every  word 
he  spoke  in  the  pulpit,  and  by  his  whole  daily  life,  how 
that  battle  was  to  be  fought ;  and  stood  there  before 
them  their  fellow  soldier  and  the  captain  of  their  band. 
The  true  sort  of  captain,  too,  for  a  boy's  army,  one 
who  had  no  misgivings  and  gave  no  uncertain  word  of 
command,  and,  let  who  would  yield  or  make  a  truce, 
would  fight  the  fight  out  (so  every  boy  felt)  to  the  last 
gasp  and  the  last  drop  of  blood.  Other  sides  of  his 
character  might  take  hold  of  and  influence  boys  here 
and  there,  but  it  was  this  thoroughness  and  undaunted 
courage  which  more  than  anything  else  won  his  way 


136  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

to  the  hearts  of  the  great  mass  of  those  on  whom  he 
left  his  mark,  and  made  them  believe  first  in  him,  and 
then  in  his  Master. 

It  Avas  this  quality  above  all  others  which  moved 
such  boys  as  our  hero,  who  had  nothing  whatever 
remarkable  about  him  except  excess  of  boyishness  ;  by 
which  I  mean  animal  life  in  its  fullest  measure,  good 
nature  and  honest  impulses,  hatred  of  injustice  and 
meaness,  and  thoughtlessness  enought  to  sink  a  three- 
decker.  And  so,  during  the  next  two  years,  in  which 
it  was  more  than  doubtful  whether  he  would  get  good 
or  evil  from  the  school,  and  before  any  steady  purpose 
or  principle  grew  up  in  him,  whatever  his  week's  sins 
and  shortcomings  might  have  been,  he  hardly  ever  left 
the  chapel  on  Sunday  evenings  without  a  serious  re- 
solve to  stand  by  and  follow  the  doctor,  and  a  feeling 
that  it  was  only  cowardice  (the  incarnation  of  all  other 
sins  in  such  a  boy's  mind)  which  hindered  him  from 
doing  so  with  all  his  heart. 

The  next  day  Tom  was  duly  placed  in  the  third 
form,  and  began  his  lessons  in  a  corner  of  the  big 
school,  lie  found  the  work  very  easy,  as  he  had  been 
well  grounded,  and  knew  his  grammar  by  heart;  and, 
as  he  had  no  intimate  companion  to  make  him  idle 
(East  and  his  other  school-house  friends  being  in  the 
lower  fourth,  the  form  above  him),  soon  gained  golden 
opinions  from  his  master,  who  said  he  was  placed  too 
low,  and  should  be  put  out  at  the  end  of  the  half-year. 
So  all  went  well  with  him  in  school,  and  he  wrote  the 
most  flourishing  letters  home  to  his  mother,  full  of  his 
success  and  the  unspeakable  delights  of  a  public 
school. 

In  the  house,  too,  all  went  well.  The  end  of  the 
half-year  was  drawing  near,  which  kept  everybody  in 


THE  NIGHT  FAG. 


TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL   DAYS.  137 

a  good  humor,  and  the  house  was  ruled  well  and 
strongly  by  Warner  and  Brooke.  True,  the  general 
system  was  rough  and  hard,  and  there  was  bullying  in 
nooks  and  corners,  bad  signs  for  the  future :  but  it 
never  got  further,  or  dared  show  itself  openly,  stalking 
about  the  passages  and  hall  and  bedrooms,  and  making 
the  life  of  the  small  boys  a  continual  fear. 

Tom,  as  a  new  boy,  was  of  right  excused  fagging  for 
the  first  month,  but  in  his  enthusiam  for  his  new  life 
this  privilege  hardly  pleased  him  ;  and  East  and  others 
of  his  young  friends  discovering  this,  kindly  allowed 
him  to  indulge  his  fancy,  and  take  their  turns  at  night 
fagging  and  cleaning  studies.  These  were  the  princi- 
pal duties  of  the  fags  in  the  house.  From  supper  until 
nine  o'clock,  three  fags  taken  in  order  stood  in  the 
passages,  and  answered  any  praspostor  who  called  Fag, 
racing  to  the  door,  the  last  comer  having  to  do  the 
work.  This  consisted  generally  of  going  to  the  buttery 
for  beer  and  bread  and  cheese  (for  the  great  men  did 
not  sup  with  the  rest,  but  had  each  his  own  allowance 
in  his  study  or  the  fifth-form  room),  cleaning  candle- 
sticks and  putting  in  new  candles,  toasting  cheese, 
bottling  beer,  and  carrying  messages  about  the  house; 
and  Tom,  in  the  first  blush  of  his  hero-worship,  felt  it 
a  high  privilege  to  receive  orders  from,  and  be  the 
bearer  of,  the  supper  of  old  Brooke.  And  besides  this 
night- work,  each  praaposter  had  three  or  four  fags 
specially  allotted  to  him,  of  whom  he  was  supposed  to 
be  the  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend,  and  who  in  return 
for  these  good  offices  had  to  clean  out  his  study  every 
morning  by  turns,  directly  after  first  lesson  and  before 
he  returned  from  breakfast.  And  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing the  great  men's  studies,  and  looking  at  their  pic- 
tures, and  peeping  into  their  books,  made  Tom  a  ready 


Io8  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

substitute  for  any  boy  who  was  too  lazy  to  do  his  own 
work.  And  so  he  soon  gained  the  character  of  a  good- 
natured,  willing  fellow,  who  was  ready  to  do  a  turn 
for  any  one. 

In  all  the  games  too  he  joined  with  all  his  heart 
and  soon  became  well  versed  in  all  the  mysteries  of 
football,  by  continued  practice  at  the  school-house 
little-side,  which  played  daily. 

The  only  incident  worth  recording  here,  however, 
was  his  first  run  at  hare-and-hounds.  On  the  last 
Tuesday  but  one  of  the  half-year  he  was  passing 
through  the  hall  after  dinner,  when  he  was  hailed  with 
shouts  from  Tadpole  and  several  other  fags  seated  at 
one  of  the  long  tables,  the  chorus  of  which  was  "  Come 
and  help  us  tear  up  scent." 

Tom  approached  the  table  in  obedience  to  the  mys- 
terious summons,  always  ready  to  help,  and  found  the 
party  engaged  in  tearing  up  old  newspapers,  copy- 
books, and  magazines,  into  small  pieces,  with  which 
they  were  filling  four  large  canvas  bags. 

"  It's  the  turn  of  our  house  to  find  scent  for  big-side 
hare-and-hounds,"  exclaimed  Tadpole ;  "  tear  away, 
there's  no  time  to  lose  before  calling-over." 

"  I  think  it's  a  great  shame,"  said  another  small 
boy,  "  to  have  such  a  hard  run  for  the  last  day." 

"Which  run  is  it?"  said  Tadpole. 

"  Oh,  the  Barby  run,  I  hear,"  answered  the  other; 
"  nine  miles  at  least,  and  hard  ground  ;  no  chance  of 
getting  in  at  the  finish,  unless  you're  a  first  rate 
scud." 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  have  a  try,"  said  Tadpole ; 
"  it's  the  last  run  of  the  half,  and  if  a  fellow  gets  in  at 
the  end,  big-side  stands  ale  and  bread  and  cheese,  and 
a  bowl  of  punch ;  and  the  Cock's  such  a  famous  place 
for  ale," 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  139 

"  I  should  like  to  try  too,"  said  Tom. 

"  Well  then,  leave  your  waistcoat  behind,  and  listen 
at  the  door,  after  calling-over,  and  you'll  hear  where 
the  meet  is." 

After  calling-over,  sure  enough,  there  were  two  boys 
at  the  door,  calling  out,  "  Big-side  hare-and-hounds 
meet  at  White  Hall ; "  and  Tom,  having  girded  himself 
with  leather  strap,  and  left  all  superfluous  clothing  be- 
hind, set  off  for  White  Hall,  an  old  gable-ended  house 
some  quarter  of  a  mile  from  town,  with  East,  whom 
he  had  persuaded  to  join,  notwithstanding  his  prophecy 
that  they  could  never  get  in,  as  it  was  the  hardest  run 
of  the  year. 

At  the  meet  they  found  some  forty  or  fifty  boys,  and 
Tom  felt  sure,  from  having  seen  many  of  them  run  at 
football,  that  he  and  East  were  more  likely  to  get  in 
than  they. 

After  a  few  minutes'  waiting,  two  well-known  run- 
ners, chosen  for  the  hares,  buckled  on  the  four  bags 
filled  with  scent,  compared  their  watches  with  those  of 
young  Brooke  and  Thorne,  and  started  off  at  a  long 
slinging  trot  across  the  fields  in  the  direction  of 
Barby. 

Then  the  hounds  clustered  round  Thorne,  who  ex- 
plained shortly,  "  They're  to  have  six  minutes'  law. 
We  run  into  the  Cock,  and  every  one  who  comes  in 
within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  the  hares'll  be  counted, 
if  he  has  been  round  Barby  church."  Then  came  a 
minute's  pause  or  so,  and  then  the  watches  are  pocketed 
and  the  pack  is  led  through  the  gateway  into  the  field 
which  the  hares  had  first  crossed.  Here  they  break 
into  a  trot,  scattering  over  the  field  to  find  the  first 
traces  of  the  scent  which  the  hares  throw  out  as  they 
go  along.  The  old  hounds  make  straight  for  the  likely 


140  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

points,  and  in  a  minute  a  cry  of  "  forward "  comes 
from  one  of  them,  and  the  whole  pack  quickening 
their  pace  make  for  the  spot,  while  the  boy  who  hit 
the  scent  first  and  the  two  or  three  nearest  to  hi  in  are 
over  the  first  fence,  and  making  play  along  the  hedge- 
row in  the  long  grass-field  beyond.  The  rest  of  the 
pack  rush  at  the  gap  already  made,  and  scramble 
through,  jostling  one  another.  "  Forward  "  again  be- 
fore they  are  half  through ;  the  pace  quickens  into  a 
sharp  run,  the  tail  hounds  all  straining  to  get  up  with 
the  lucky  leaders.  They  are  gallant  hares,  and  the 
scent  lies  thick  right  across  another  meadow  and  into 
a  plowed  field,  where  the  pace  begins  to  tell;  and  then 
over  a  good  wattle  with  a  ditch  on  the  other  side,  and 
down  a  large  pasture  studded  with  old  thorns,  which 
slopes  down  to  the  first  brook;  the  great  Leicester- 
shire sheep  charge  away  across  the  field  as  the  pack 
comes  racing  down  the  slope.  The  brook  is  a  small 
one,  and  the  scent  lies  right  ahead  up  the  opposite 
slope,  and  as  thick  as  ever;  not  a  turn  or  a  check  to 
favor  the  tail  hounds,  who  strain  on,  now  trailing  in  a 
long  line,  many  a  youngster  beginning  to  drag  his  legs 
heavily,  and  feel  his  heart  beat  like  a  hammer,  and  the 
bad  plucked  ones  thinking  that  after  all  it  isn't  worth 
while  to  keep  it  up. 

Tom,  East  and  the  Tadpole  had  a  good  start,  and 
are  well  up  for  such  young  hands,  and  after  rising  the 
slope  and  crossing  the  next  field,  find  themselves  up 
with  the  leading  hounds,  who  have  over-run  the  scent 
and  are  trying  back  ;  they  have  come  a  mile  and  a  half 
in  about  eleven  minutes,  a  pace  which  shows  that  it  is 
the  last  day.  About  twenty-five  of  the  original  start- 
ers only  show  here,  the  rest  having  already  given  in  ; 
the  leaders  are  busy  making  casts  into  the  fields  on  the 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  141 

left  and  right,  and  the  others  get  their  second  winds. 
Then  comes  the  cry  of  "forward"  again,  from  young 
Brooke,  from  the  extreme  left,  and  the  pack  settles 
down  to  work  again  steadily  and  doggedly,  the  whole 
keeping  pretty  well  together.  The  scent,  though  still 
good,  is  not  so  thick  ;  there  is  no  need  of  that,  for  in 
this  part  of  the  run  every  one  knows  the  line  which 
must  be  taken,  and  so  there  are  no  casts  to  made,  but 
good  downright  running  and  fencing  to  be  done.  All 
who  are  now  up  mean  coming  in,  and  they  come  to 
the  foot  of  Barby  Hill  without  losing  more  than  two 
or  three  more  of  the  pack.  This  last  straight  two 
miles  and  a  half  is  always  a  vantage  ground  for  the 
hounds,and  the  hares  know  it  well ;  they  are  generally 
viewed  on  the  side  of  Barby  II ill,  and  all  eyes  are  on 
the  look-out  for  them  to-day.  But  not  a  sign  of  them 
appears,  so  now  will  be  the  hard  work  for  the  hounds, 
and  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  cast  about  for  the 
scent,  for  it  is  now  the  hare's  turn,  and  they  may  baffle 
the  pack  dreadfully  in  the  next  two  miles. 

Ill  fares  it  now  with  our  youngsters  that  they  are 
school-house  boys,  and  so  follow  young  Brooke,  for  he 
takes  the  wide  casts  round  to  the  left,  conscious  of  his 
own  powers,  and  loving  the  hard  work.  For  if  you 
would  consider  for  a  moment,  you  small  boys,  you 
would  remember  that  the  Cock,  where  the  run  ends, 
and  the  good  ale  will  be  going,  lies  far  out  to  the  right 
on  the  Dunchurch  road,  so  that  every  cast  you  take  to 
the  left  is  so  much  extra  work.  And  at  this  stage  of 
the  run,  when  the  evening  is  closing  in  already,  no  one 
remarks  whether  you  run  a  little  cunning  or  not,  so 
you  should  stick  to  those  crafty  hounds  who  keep  edg- 
ing away  to  the  right,  and  not  follow  a  prodigal  like 
young  Brooke,  whose  legs  are  twice  as  long  as  yours 


142  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  of  cast-iron,  wholly  indifferent  to  two  or  three 
miles  more  or  less.  However,  they  struggle  after  him, 
sobbing  and  plunging  along,  Tom  and  East  pretty 
close,  and  Tadpole,  whose  big  head  begins  to  pull  him 
down,  some  thirty  yards  behind. 

Now  comes  a  brook,  with  stiff  clay  banks,  from  which 
they  can  hardly  drag  their  legs,  and  they  hear  faint 
cries  for  help  from  the  wretched  Tadpole,  who  has 
fairly  stuck  fast.  But  they  have  too  little  run  left  in 
themselves  to  pull  up  for  their  own  brothers.  Three 
fields  more,  and  another  check,  and  then  "  forward  " 
called  away  to  the  extreme  right. 

The  two  boys'  souls  die  within  them  ;  they  can  never 
do  it.  Young  Brooke  thinks  so  too,  and  says  kindly, 
"  You'll  cross  a  lane  after  next  field,  keep  down  it, 
and  you'll  hit  the  Dunchurch  road  below  the  Cock," 
and  then  steams  away  for  the  run  in,  in  which  he's 
sure  to  be  first,  as  if  he  were  just  starting.  They 
struggle  on  across  the  next  field,  the  "forwards" 
getting  fainter  and  fainter,  and  then  ceasing.  The 
whole  hunt  is  out  of  ear-shot,  and  all  hope  of  coming 
in  is  over. 

"  Hang  it  all ! "  broke  out  East,  as  soon  as  he  had 
got  wind  enough,  pulling  off  his  hat  and  mopping  at 
his  face,  all  spattered  with  dirt  and  lined  with  sweat, 
from  which  went  up  a  thick  steam  into  the  still  cold 
air.  "  I  told  you  how  it  Avould  be.  "What  a  thick 
I  was  to  come !  Here  we  are  dead  beat,  and  yet 
I  know  we're  close  to  the  run  in,  if  we  knew  the 
country." 

"Well,"  said  Tom  mopping  away,  and  gulping 
down  his  disappointment,  "it  can't  be  helped.  We 
did  our  best  anyhow.  Hadn't  we  better  find  this 
lane,  and  go  down  it,  as  young  Brooke  told  us  f " 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  t)AY9.  143 

"  I  suppose  so — nothing  else  for  it,"  grunted  East. 
"If  ever  I  go  out  last  day  again,"  growl — growl — 
growl. 

So  they  tried  back  slowly  and  sorrowfully,  and  found 
the  lane,  and  went  limping  down  it,  plashing  in  the 
cold  puddly  ruts,  and  beginning  to  feel  how  the  run 
had  taken  it  out  of  them.  The  evening  closed  in  fast, 
and  clouded  over,  dark,  cold,  and  dreary. 

"I  say,  it  must  be  locking-up,  I  should  think," 
remarked  East,  breaking  the  silence  ;  "  it's  so  dark." 

"  What  if  we're  late  ? "  said  Tom. 

"No  tea,  and  sent  up  to  the  doctor,"  answered 
East. 

The  thought  didn't  add  to  their  cheerfulness.  Pre- 
sently a  faint  halloo  was  heard  from  an  adjoining  Held. 
They  answered  it  and  stopped,  hoping  for  some  compe- 
tent rustic  to  guide  them,  when  over  a  gate  some  twenty 
yards  ahead  crawled  the  wretched  Tadpole,  in  a  state 
of  collapse  ;  he  had  lost  a  shoe  in  the  brook,  and  been 
groping  after  it  up  to  his  elbows  in  the  stiff  wet  clay, 
and  a  more  miserable  creature  in  the  shape  of  a  boy 
seldom  has  been  seen. 

The  sight  of  him,  notwithstanding,  cheered  them,  for 
he  was  some  degrees  more  wretched  than  they.  They 
also  cheered  him,  as  he  was  now  no  longer  under  the 
dread  of  passing  his  night  alone  in  the  fields.  And  so 
in  better  heart,  the  three  plashed  painfully  down  the 
never-ending  lane.  At  last  it  widened,  just  as  utter 
darkness  set  in,  and  they  come  out  on  to  a  turnpike- 
road,  and  there  paused,  bewildered,  for  they  had  lost 
bearings,  and  knew  not  whether  to  turn  to  the  right  or 
left. 

Luckily  for  them  they  had  not  to  decide,  for  lumber- 
ing along  the  road,  with  one  lamp  lighted,  and  two 


144  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  GAYS. 

spavined  horses  in  the  shafts,  came  a  heavy  coach,  which 
after  a  moment's  suspense  they  recognized  as  the  Ox- 
ford coach,  the  redoubtable  Pig  and  Whistle. 

It  lumbered  slowly  up,  and  the  boys  mustering 
their  last  run,  caught  it  as  it  passed,  and  began 
scrambling  up  behind,  in  which  exploit  East  missed 
his  footing  and  fell  flat  on  his  nose  along  the  road. 
Then  the  others  hailed  the  old  scarecrow  of  a  coach- 
man, who  pulled  up  and  agreed  to  take  them  in  for  a 
shilling;  so  there  they  sat  on  the  back  seat,  drubbing 
with  their  heels,  and  their  teeth  chattering  with  cold, 
and  jogged  into  Rugby  some  focty  minutes  after  lock- 
ing up. 

Five  minutes  afterward,  three  small  limping,  shiver- 
ing figures  steal  along  through  the  doctor's  garden, 
and  into  the  house  by  the  servants'  entrance  (all  the 
other  gates  have  been  closed  long  since),  where  the 
first  thing  they  light  upon  in  the  passage  is  old 
Thomas,  ambling  along,  candle  in  one  hand  and  ke}^s 
in  the  other. 

He  stops  and  examines  their  condition  with  a  grim 
smile.  "  Ah,  East,  Hall,  and  Brown,  late  for  locking  up. 
Must  go  up  to  the  doctor's  study  at  once." 

"Well  but,  Thomas,  mayn't  we  go  and  wash  first? 
You  can  put  down  the  time,  you  know." 

"Doctor's  study  d'rectly  you  come  in — that's  the 
orders,"  replied  old  Thomas,  motioning  toward  the 
stairs  at  the  end  of  the  passage  which  led  up  into  the 
doctor's  house  ;  and  the  boys  turned  ruefully  down  it, 
not  cheered  by  the  old  verger's  muttered  remark, 
"  What  a  pickle  they  boys  be  in  !  "  Thomas  referred 
to  their  faces  and  habiliments,  but  they  construed  it  as 
indicating  the  doctor's  state  of  mind.  Upon  the  short 
flight  of  stairs  thoy  paused  to  hold  counsel. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  145 

"  Who'll  go  in  first  ?  "  inquires  Tadpole. 

"  You — you're  the  senior,"  answered  East. 

"  Catch  me — look  at  the  state  I'm  in,"  rejoined  Hall, 
showing  the  arms  of  his  jacket.  "  I  must  get  behind 
you  two." 

"Well,  but  look  at  me,"  said  East,  indicating  the 
mass  of  clay  behind  which  he  was  standing ;  "  I'm  worse 
than  you,  two  to  one ;  you  might  grow  cabbages  on  my 
trousers." 

"  That's  all  down  below,  and  you  can  keep  your  legs 
behind  the  sofa,"  said  Hall. 

"Here,  Brown,  you're  the  show  figure — you  must 
lead." 

"  But  my  face  is  all  muddy,"  argued  Tom. 

"Oh,  we're  all  in  one  boat  for  that  matter ;  but  come 
on,  we're  only  making  it  worse,  dawdling  here." 

"  Well,  just  give  us  a  brush  then,"  said  Tom ;  and 
they  began  trying  to  rub  off  the  superfluous  dirt  from 
each  other's  jackets,  but  it  was  not  dry  enough,  and 
the  rubbing  made  it  worse;  so  in  despair  they  pushed 
through  the  swing  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and 
found  themselves  in  the  doctor's  hall. 

"  That's  the  library  door,"  said  East  in  a  whisper, 
pushing  Tom  forward.  The  sound  of  merry  voices 
and  laughing  came  from  within,  and  his  first  hesitat- 
ing knock  was  unanswered.  But  at  the  second,  the 
doctor's  voice  said  "  Come  in,"  and  Tom  turned  the 
handle,  and  he,  with  the  others  behind  him,  sidled  into 
the  room. 

The  doctor  looked  up  from  his  task ;  he  was  working 
away  with  a  great  chisel  at  the  bottom  of  a  boy's  sail- 
ing boat,  the  lines  of  which  he  was  no  doubt  fashioning 
on  the  model  of  one  of  Nicias'  galleys.  Round  him 
stood  three  or  four  children;  the  candles  burned  brightly 


14G  TOM  BROWN  S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

on  a  large  table  at  the  further  end  covered  with  books 
and  papers,  and  a  great  fire  threw  a  ruddy  glow  over 
the  rest  of  the  room.  All  looked  so  kindly,  and 
homely,  and  comfortable,  that  the  boys  took  heart  in 
a  moment,  and  Tom  advanced  from  behind  the  shelter 
of  the  great  sofa.  The  doctor  nodded  to  the  children, 
who  went  out,  casting  curious  and  amused  glances  at 
the  three  young  scarecrows. 

"  Well,  my  little  fellows,"  began  the  doctor,  drawing 
himself  up  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  the  chisel  in  one 
hand  and  his  coat-tails  in  the  other,  and  his  eyes 
twinkling  as  he  looked  them  over  ;  "  what  makes  you 
so  late  2 " 

"Please,  sir,  we've  been  out  big-side  hare-and- 
hounds,  and  lost  our  way." 

"  Hah !  you  couldn't  keep  up,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  East,  stepping  out,  and  not  liking 
that  the  doctor  should  think  lightly  of  his  running 
powers,  "  we  got  round  Barby  all  right,  but  then— 

"  Why,  what  a  state  you're  in,  my  boy ! "  interrupted 
the  doctor,  as  the  pitiful  condition  of  East's  garments 
was  fully  revealed  to  him. 

"  That's  the  fall  I  got,  sir,  in  the  road,"  said  East, 
looking  down  at  himself ;  "  the  Old  Pig  came  by " 

"  The  what  ? "  said  the  doctor. 

11  The  Oxford  coach,  sir,"  explained  Hall. 

"  Hah  !  yes,  the  Kegulator,"  said  the  doctor. 

"And  I  tumbled  on  my  face  trying  to  get  up  be- 
hind," went  on  East. 

"You're  not  hurt,  I  hope?"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Oh  no,  sir." 

"Well  now,  run  up-stairs,  all  three  of  you,  and  get 
clean  things  on,  and  then  tell  the  housekeeper  to  give 
you  some  tea.  You're  too  young  to  try  such  long  runs. 
Let  Warner  know  I've  seen  you.  Good-night," 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  147 

"  Good-night,  sir."  And  away  scuttled  the  three 
boys  in  high  glee. 

"  What  a  brick,  not  to  give  us  even  twenty  lines  to 
learn ! "  said  the  Tadpole,  as  they  reached  their  bed- 
room ;  and  in  half-an-hour  afterward  they  were  sitting 
by  the  fire  in  the  housekeeper's  room  at  a  sumptuous 
tea,  with  cold  meat,  "  twice  as  good  a  grub  as  we  should 
have  got  in  the  hall,"  as  the  Tadpole  remarked  with  a 
grin,  his  mouth  full  of  buttered  toast.  All  their  griev- 
ances forgotten,  and  they  were  resolving  to  go  out 
the  first  big-side  next  half,  and  thinking  hare-and- 
hounds  the  most  delightful  of  games. 

A  day  or  two  afterward  the  great  passage  outside 
the  bedrooms  was  cleared  of  the  boxes  and  portman- 
teaus, which  went  down  to  be  packed  by  the  matron, 
and  great  games  of  chariot-racing,  and  cock-fighting, 
and  bolstering,  went  on  in  the  vacant  space,  the  sure 
sign  of  a  closing  half-year. 

Then  came  the  making-up  of  parties  for  the  journey 
home,  and  Tom  joined  a  party  who  were  to  hire  a 
coach,  and  post  with  four  horses  to  Oxford. 

Then  the  last  Saturday,  on  which  the  doctor  came 
round  to  each  form  to  give  out  the  prizes,  and  hear  the 
masters'  last  reports  of  how  they  and  their  charges  had 
been  conducting  themselves ;  and  Tom,  to  his  huge 
delight,  was  praised,  and  got  his  remove  into  the  lower- 
fourth,  in  which  all  his  school-house  friends  were. 

On  the  next  Tuesday  morning,  at  four  o'clock,  hot 
coffee  was  going  on  in  the  housekeeper's  and  matron's 
rooms ;  boys  wrapped  in  great  coats  and  mufflers  wrere 
swallowing  hasty  mouthfuls,  rushing  about,  tumbling 
over  luggage,  and  asking  questions  all  at  once  of  the 
matron ;  outside  the  school  gates  were  drawn  up  several 
chaises  and  the  four-horse  coach  which  Tom's  party 


148  TOM   BROWN  S  SCHOOL   DAYS. 

had  chartered,  the  post  boys  in  their  best  jackets  and 
breeches,  and  a  cornopean  player,  hired  for  the  occasion 
blowing  away  "  A  southerly  wind  and  a  cloudy  sky," 
waking  all  peaceful  inhabitants  half-way  down  the  High 
street. 

Every  minute  the  bustle  and  hubbub  increased, 
porters  staggered  about  with  boxes  and  bags,  the  cor- 
nopean played  louder.  Old  Thomas  sat  in  his  den  with 
a  great  yellow  bag  by  his  side,  out  of  which  he  was 
paying  journey  money  to  each  boy,  comparing  by  the 
light  of  a  solitary  dip  the  dirty  crabbed  little  list  in  his 
own  handwriting  with  the  doctor's  list,  and  the  amount 
of  his  cash  ;  his  head  was  on  one  side,  his  mouth  screwed 
up,  and  his  spectacles  dim  from  early  toil.  He  had 
prudently  locked  the  door,  and  carried  on  his  operations 
solely  through  the  window,  or  he  would  have  been 
driven  wild,  and  lost  all  his  money. 

"  Thomas,  do  be  quick,  we  shall  never  catch  the 
Highflyer  at  Dunchurch." 

"  That's  your  money,  all  right  Green." 

"  Hullo,  Thomas,  the  doctor  said  I  was  to  have  two- 
pound-ten  ;  you've  only  given  me  two  pound."  (I  fear 
that  Master  Green  is  not  confining  himself  strictly  to 
truth).  Thomas  turns  his  head  more  on  one  side  than 
ever,  and  spells  away  at  the  dirty  list.  Green  is  forced 
away  from  the  window. 

"Here,  Thomas,  never  mind  him,  mine's  thirty 
shillings,"  "And  mine  too,"  "and  mine,"  shouted 
others. 

One  way  or  another,  the  party  to  which  Tom  be- 
longed all  got  packed  and  paid,  and  sallied  out  to  the 
gates  the  cornopean  playing  frantically  "  Drops  of 
brandy,"  in  allusion,  probably,  to  the  slight  potations 
in  which  the  musician  and  post-boys  had  been  already 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  149 

indulging.  All  luggage  was  carefully  stowed  away  in- 
side the  coach  and  in  the  front  and  hind  boots,  so  that 
not  a  hat-box  was  visible  outside.  Five  or  six  small 
boys,  with  pea-shooters,  and  the  cornopean  player,  got 
up  behind;  in  front  the  big  boys,  mostly  smoking, 
not  for  pleasure,  but  because  they  are  now  gentlemen 
at  large — and  this  is  the  most  correct  public  method  of 
notifying  the  fact. 

"Robinson's  coach  will  be  down  the  road  in  a 
minute,  it  has  gone  up  to  Bird's  to  pick  up — we'll 
wait  till  they're  close,  and  make  a  race  of  it,"  says 
the  leader.  "Now  boys,  half-a-sovereign  apiece 
if  you  beat  'em  into  Dunchurch,  by  one  hundred 
yards." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  shouted  the  grinning  post-boys. 

Down  comes  Robinson's  coach  in  a  minute  or  two 
with  a  rival  cornopean,  and  away  go  the  two  vehicles, 
horses  galloping,  boys  cheering,  horns  playing  loud. 
There  is  a  special  providence  over  school-boys  as  well 
as  sailors,  or  they  must  have  upset  twenty  times  in  the 
first  five  miles;  sometimes  actually  abreast  of  one 
another,  and  the  boys  on  the  roofs  exchanging  volleys  of 
peas,  now  nearly  running  over  a  post-chaise  which  had 
started  before  them,  now  half-way  up  a  bank,  now 
with  a  wheel-and-a  half  over  a  yawning  ditch  ;  and  all 
this  in  a  dark  morning,  with  nothing  but  their  own 
lamps  to  guide  them.  However,  it's  all  over  at  last, 
and  they  have  run  over  nothing  but  an  old  pig  in 
Southam  street ;  the  last  peas  are  distributed  in  the 
corn  market  at  Oxford,  where  they  arrive  between 
eleven  and  twelve,  and  sit  down  to  a  sumptuous  break- 
fast at  the  Angel,  which  they  are  made  to  pay  for 
accordingly.  Here  the  party  breaks  up,  all  going  now 
different  ways  ;  and  Tom  orders  out  a  chaise  and  pair 


ISO  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

as  grand  as  a  lord,  though  he  has  scarcely  five  shillings 
left  in  his  pocket  and  more  than  twenty  miles  to  get 
home. 

"Whereto,  sir?" 

"  Red  Lion,  Farringdon,"  says  Tom,  giving  ostler  a 
shilling. 

"  All  right,  sir.  Red  Lion,  Jem,"  to  the  post-boy, 
and  Tom  rattles  away  toward  home.  At  Farringdon, 
being  known  to  the  innkeeper,  he  gets  that  worthy  to 
pay  for  the  Oxford  horses,  and  forward  him  in  another 
chaise  at  once  ;  and  so  the  gorgeous  young  gentleman 
arrives  at  the  paternal  mansion,  and  Squire  Brown 
looks  rather  blue  at  having  to  pay  two-pound  ten- 
shillings  for  the  posting  expenses  from  Oxford.  But 
the  boy's  intense  joy  at  getting  home,  and  the  wonder- 
ful health  he  is  in,  and  the  good  character  he  brings, 
and  the  brave  stories  he  tells  of  Rugby,  its  doings  and 
delights,  soon  mollify  the  squire,  and  three  happier 
people  didn't  sit  down  to  dinner  that  day  in  England 
(it  is  the  boy's  first  dinner  at  six  o'clock  at  home,  great 
promotion  already),  than  the  squire  and  his  wife  and 
Tom  Brown  at  the  end  of  his  first  half-year  at  Rugby. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  151 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   WAR   OF   INDEPENDENCE. 

"  They  are  slaves  who  will  not  choose 
Hatred,  scoffing,  and  abuse, 
Rather  than  in  silence  shrink 
From  the  truth  they  needs  must  think: 
They  are  slaves  who  dare  not  be 
In  the  right  with  two  or  three." 

LOWELL,  Stanzas  on  Freedom. 

THE  lower-fourth,  form,  in  which  Tom  found  himself 
at  the  beginning  of  the  next  half  year,  was  the  largest 
form  in  the  lower  school,  and  numbered  upward  of 
forty  boys.  Young  gentlemen  of  all  ages  from  nine  to 
fifteen,  were  to  be  found  there,  who  expended  such 
part  of  their  energies  as  was  devoted  to  Latin  and 
Greek  upon  a  book  of  Livy,  the  Bucolics  of  Virgil,  and 
the  Hecuba  of  Euripides,  which  were  ground  out  in 
small  daily  portions.  The  driving  of  this  unlucky 
lower-fourth  must  have  been  grievous  work  to  the  un- 
fortunate master,  for  it  was  the  most  unhappily  con- 
stituted of  any  in  the  school.  Here  stuck  the  great 
stupid  boys,  who  for  the  life  of  them  could  never 
master  the  accidence  ;  the  objects  alternately  of  mirth, 
and  terror  to  the  youngsters,  who  were  daily  taking 
them  up  and  laughing  at  them  in  lesson,  and  getting 
kicked  by  them  for  so  doing  in  play-hours.  There  were 
no  less  than  three  unhappy  fellows  in  tail  coats,  with 
incipient  down  on  their  chins,  whom  the  doctor 


152  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  master  of  the  form  were  always  endeavoring  to 
hoist  into  the  upper  school,  but  whose  parsing  and 
construing  resisted  the  most  well-meant  shoves.  Then 
came  the  mass  of  the  form,  boys  of  eleven  and  twelve, 
the  most  mischievous  and  reckless  age  of  British  youth, 
of  whom  East  and  Tom  Brown  were  fair  specimens. 
As  full  of  tricks  as  monkeys,  and  of  excuses  as  Irish 
women,  making  fun  of  their  master,  one  another,  and 
their  lessons,  Argus  himself  would  have  been  puzzled 
to  keep  on  eye  on  them ;  and  as  for  making  them 
steady  or  serious  for  half  an  hour  together,  it  was  sim- 
ply hopeless.  The  remainder  of  the  form  consisted  of 
young  prodigies  of  nine  and  ten,  who  were  going  up 
the  school  at  the  rate  of  a  form  a  half-year,  all  boys' 
hands  and  wits  being  against  them  in  their  progress. 
It  would  have  been  one  man's  work  to  see  that  the 
precocious  youngsters  had  fair  play  ;  and  as  the  master 
had  a  good  deal  besides  to  do,  they  hadn't,  and  were 
forever  being  shoved  down  three  or  four  places, 
their  verses  stolen,  their  books  inked,  their  jackets 
whitened,  and  their  lives  otherwise  made  a  burden  to 
them. 

The  lower-fourth,  and  all  the  forms  below  it,  were 
heard  in  the  great  school,  and  were  not  trusted  to 
prepare  their  lessons  before  coming  in,  but  were 
whipped  into  school  three-quarters  of  an  hour  before 
the  lesson  began  by  their  respective  masters,  and 
there  scattered  about  on  the  benches,  with  dictionary 
and  grammar,  hammered  out  their  twenty  lines  of 
Virgil  and  Euripides  in  the  midst  of  Babel.  The  mas- 
ters of  the  lower  school  walked  up  and  down  the 
great  school  together  during  this  three-quarters  of  an 
hour,  or  sat  in  their  desks  reading  or  looking  over 
copies,  and  keeping  such  order  as  was  possible.  But 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  153 

the  lower-fourth  was  just  now  an  overgrown  form,  too 
large  for  any  one  man  to  attend  to  properly,  and  con- 
sequently the  elysium  or  ideal  form  of  the  young 
scapegraces  who  formed  the  staple  of  it. 

Tom  as  has  been  said,  had  come  up  from  the  third 
with  a  good  character,  but  the  temptations  of  the 
lower-fourth  soon  proved  too  strong  for  him,  and  he 
rapidly  fell  away  ;  and  became  as  unmanageable  as 
the  rest.  For  some  weeks,  indeed,  he  succeeded  in 
maintaining  the  appearance  of  steadiness,  and  was 
looked  upon  favorably  by  his  new  master,  whose  eyes 
were  first  opened  by  the  following  little  incident. 

Besides  the  desk  which  the  master  himself  occupied, 
there  was  another  large  unoccupied  desk  in  the  corner 
of  the  great  school,  which  was  untenanted.  To  rush 
and  seize  upon  this  desk,  which  was  ascended  by  three 
steps,  and  held  four  boys,  was  the  great  object  of  am- 
bition of  the  lower  fourthers ;  and  the  contentions  for 
the  occupation  of  it  bred  such  disorder,  that  at  last  the 
master  forbade  its  use  altogether.  This  of  course  was 
a  challenge  to  the  more  adventurous  spirits  to  occupy 
it,  and  as  it  was  capacious  enough  for  two  boys  to  lie 
hid  there  completely,  it  was  seldom  that  it  remained 
empty,  notwithstanding  the  veto.  Small  holes  were 
cut  in  the  front,  through  which  the  occupants  watched 
the  masters  as  they  walked  up  and  down,  and  as  lesson 
time  approached,  one  boy  at  a  time  stole  out  and  down 
the  steps,  as  the  masters'  backs  were  turned,  and  min- 
gled with  the  general  crowd  on  the  forms  below.  Tom 
and  East  had  successfully  occupied  the  desk  some  half 
dozen  times,  and  were  grown  so  reckless  that  they  were 
in  the  habit  of  playing  small  games  with  fives'-balls 
inside  when  the  masters  were  at  the  other  end  of  the 
big  school.  One  day,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  the 


154  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

game  became  more  exciting  than  usual  and  the  ball 
slipped  through  East's  fingers,  and  rolled  slowly  down 
the  steps,  and  out  into  the  middle  of  the  school,  just  as 
the  masters  turned  in  their  walk  and  faced  round  upon 
the  desk.  The  young  delinquents  watched  their  master 
through  the  look-out  holes,  march  slowly  down  the 
school  straight  upon  their  retreat,  while  all  the  boys  in 
the  neighborhood  of  course  stopped  their  work  to  look 
on ;  and  not  only  were  they  ignominiously  drawn  out 
and  caned  over  the  hand  then  and  there,  but  their 
characters  for  steadiness  were  gone  from  that  time. 
However,  as  they  only  shared  the  fate  of  some  three 
fourths  of  the  rest  of  the  form,  this  did  not  weigh 
heavily  upon  them. 

In  fact,  the  only  occasions  on  which  they  cared  about 
the  matter  were  the  monthly  examinations,  when  the 
doctor  came  round  to  examine  their  form,  for  one  long 
awful  hour,  in  the  work  which  they  had  done  in  the 
preceding  month.  The  second  monthly  examination 
came  round  soon  after  Tom's  fall,  and  it  was  with 
anything  but  lively  anticipations  that  he  and  the  other 
lower-fourth  boys  came  in  to  prayers  on  the  morning 
of  the  examination  day. 

,  Prayers  and  calling-over  seemed  twice  as  short  as 
usual,  and  before  they  could  get  construes  of  a  tithe 
of  the  hard  passages  marked  in  the  margin  of  their 
books,  they  were  all  seated  round,  and  the  doctor 
was  standing  in  the  middle,  talking  in  wrhispers  to 
the  master.  Tom  couldn't  hear  a  word  which  passed, 
and  never  lifted  his  eyes  from  his  book ;  but  he  knew 
by  a  sort  of  magnetic  instinct  that  the  doctor's  under 
lip  was  coming  out,  and  his  eye  beginning  to  burn, 
and  his  gown  getting  gathered  up  more  and  more 
tightly  in  his  left  hand.  The  suspense  was 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  155 

ing,  and  Tom.  knew  that  he  was  sure  on  such  oc- 
casions to  make  an  example  of  the  school-house  boys. 
"  If  he  would  only  begin,"  thought  Tom,  "  I  shouldn't 
mind." 

At  last  the  whispering  ceased,  and  the  name  which 
was  called  out  was  not  Brown.  He  looked  up  for  a 
moment,  but  the  doctor's  face  was  too  awful;  Tom 
wouldn't  have  met  his  eye  for  all  he  was  worth,  and 
buried  himself  in  his  book  again. 

The  boy  who  was  called  up  first  was  a  clever,  merry 
school-house  boy,  one  of  their  set :  he  was  some  con- 
nection of  the  doctor's,  and  a  great  favorite,  and  ran 
in  and  out  of  his  house  as  he  liked,  and  so  was  selected 
for  the  first  victim. 

"  Triste  lupus,  stdbulis^  began  the  luckless  youngster, 
and  stammered  through  some  eight  or  ten  lines. 

"  There,  that  will  do,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  now 
construe." 

On  common  occasions,  the  boy  could  have  construed 
the  passage  well  enough  probably,  but  now  his  head 
was  gone. 

"  Triste  lupus,  the  sorrowful  wolf,"  he  began. 

A  shudder  ran  through  the  whole  form,  and  the 
doctor's  wrath  fairly  boiled  over ;  he  made  three  steps 
up  to  the  construer,  and  gave  him  a  good  box  on  the 
ear.  The  blow  was  not  a  hard  one,  but  the  boy  was 
so  taken  by  surprise  that  he  started  back ;  the  form 
caught  the  back  of  his  knees,  and  over  he  went  on  to 
the  floor  behind.  There  was  a  dead  silence  over  the 
whole  school ;  never  before,  and  never  again  while  Tom 
was  at  school  did  the  doctor  strike  a  boy  in  lesson. 
The  provocation  must  have  been  great.  However,  the 
victim  had  saved  his  form  for  that  occasion,  for  the 
doctor  turned  to  the  top  bench,  and  put  on  the  best 


156  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

boys  for  the  rest  of  the  hour ;  and  though,  at  the  end 
of  the  lesson,  he  gave  them  all  such  a  rating  as  they 
did  not  forget,  this  terrible  field-day  passed  over  with- 
out any  severe  visitations  in  the  shape  of  punishments 
or  floggings.  Forty  young  scapegraces  expressed  their 
thanks  to  the  "sorrowful  wolf  "  in  their  different  ways 
before  second  lesson. 

But  a  character  for  steadiness  once  gone  is  not  easily 
recovered,  as  Tom  found,  and  for  years  afterward  he 
went  up  to  the  school  without  it,  and  the  masters' 
hands  were  against  him,  and  his  against  them.  And 
he  regarded  them,  as  a  matter  of  course,  as  his  natural 
enemies.  Matters  were  not  so  comfortable  either  in 
the  house  as  they  had  been,  for  old  Brooke  left  at 
Christmas,  and  one  or  two  others  of  the  sixth-form  boys 
at  the  following  Easter.  Their  rule  had  been  rough, 
but  strong  and  just  in  the  main,  and  a  higher  standard 
was  beginning  to  be  set  up  ;  in  fact,  there  had  been  a 
short  foretaste  of  the  good  time  which  followed  some 
years  later.  Just  now,  however,  all  threatened  to  re- 
turn into  darkness  and  chaos  again.  For  the  new  pra?- 
postors  were  either  small  young  boys,  whose  cleverness 
had  carried  them  up  to  the  top  of  the  school,  while  in 
strength  of  body  and  character  they  were  not  yet  fit 
for  a  share  in  the  government ;  or  else  big  fellows  of 
the  wrong  sort,  boys  whose  friendships  and  tastes  had 
a  downward  tendency,  who  had  not  caught  the  mean- 
ing of  their  position  and  work,  and  felt  none  of  its 
responsibilities.  So  under  this  no-government  the 
school-house  began  to  see  bad  times.  The  big  fifth- 
form  boys,  who  were  a  sporting  and  drinking  set,  soon 
began  to  usurp  power,  and  to  fag  the  little  boys  as  if 
they  were  praepostors,  and  to  bully  and  oppress  any 
who  showed  signs  of  resistance.  The  bigger  sort 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  157 

of  sixth-form  boys  just  described  soon  made  common 
cause  with  the  fifth,  while  the  smaller  sort,  hampered 
by  their  colleagues'  desertion  to  the  enemy,  could  not 
make  head  against  them.  So  the  fags  were  without 
their  lawful  masters  and  protectors,  and  ridden  over 
rough-shod  by  a  set  of  boys  whom  they  were  not  bound 
to  obey,  and  whose  only  right  over  them  stood  in  their 
bodily  powers  ;  and,  as  old  Brooke  had  prophesied,  the 
house  by  degrees  broke  up  into  small  sets  and  parties, 
and  lost  the  strong  feeling  of  fellowship  which  he  set 
so  much  store  by,  and  with  it  much  of  the  prowess  in 
games  and  the  lead  in  all  school  matters  which  he  had 
done  so  much  to  keep  up. 

In  no  place  in  the  world  has  individual  character 
more  weight  than  at  a  public  school.  Remember  this, 
I  beseech  you,  all  you  boys  who  are  getting  into  the 
upper  forms.  Now  is  the  time  in  all  your  lives  pro- 
bably when  you  may  have  more  wide  influence  for 
good  or  evil  on  the  society  you  live  in  than  you  ever 
can  have  again.  Quit  yourselves  like  men,  then  ;  speak 
up,  and  strike  out  if  necessary  for  whatsoever  is  true, 
and  manly,  and  lovely,  and  of  good  report ;  never  try 
to  be  popular,  but  only  to  do  your  duty  and  help 
others  to  do  theirs,  and  you  may  leave  the  tone  of  feel- 
ing in  the  school  higher  than  you  found  it,  and  so  be 
doing  good,  which  no  living  soul  can  measure,  to  gen- 
erations of  your  countrymen  yet  unborn.  For  boys 
follow  one  another  in  herds  like  sheep,  for  good  or 
evil ;  they  hate  thinking,  and  have  rarely  any  settled 
principles.  Every  school,  indeed,  has  its  own  tradi- 
tionary standard  of  right  and  wrong,  which  cannot  be 
transgressed  with  impunity,  marking  certain  things  as 
low  and  blackguard,  and  certain  others  as  lawful  and 
right.  This  standard  is  ever  varying,  though  it  changes 


158  TOM   BROWN  S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

only  slowly,  and  little  by  little  ;  and,  subject  only  to 
such  standard,  it  is  the  leading  boys  for  the  time  being 
•who  give  the  tone  to  all  the  rest,  and  make  the  school 
either  a  noble  institution  for  the  training  of  Christian 
Englishmen,  or  a  place  where  a  young  boy  will  get 
more  evil  than  he  would  if  he  were  turned  out  to  make 
his  way  in  London  streets,  or  anything  between  these 
two  extremes. 

The  change  for  the  worse  in  the  school-house,  how- 
ever, didn't  press  very  heavily  on  our  youngsters  for 
some  time ;  they  were  in  a  good  bedroom,  where  slept 
the  only  praepostor  left  who  was  able  to  keep  thorough 
order,  and  their  study  was  in  his  passage ;  so,  though 
they  were  fagged  more  or  less,  and  occasionally  kicked, 
or  cuffed  by  the  bullies,  they  were  on  the  whole  well 
off ;  and  the  fresh  brave  school-life,  so  full  of  games, 
adventures,  and  good  fellowship,  so  ready  at  forget- 
ting, so  capacious  at  enjoying,  so  bright  at  forecasting 
outweighed  a  thousandfold  their  troubles  with  the 
master  of  their  form,  and  the  occasional  ill-usage  of 
the  big  boys  in  the  house.  It  wasn't  till  some  year  or 
so  after  the  events  recorded  above,  that  the  praspostor 
of  their  room  and  passage  left.  None  of  the  other 
sixth-form  boys  would  move  into  their  passage,  and, 
to  the  disgust  and  indignation  of  Tom  and  East,  one 
morning  after  breakfast  they  were  seized  upon  by 
Flashman,  and  made  to  carry  down  his  books  and  fur- 
niture into  the  unoccupied  study  which  he  had  taken. 
From  this  time  they  began  to  feel  the  weight  of  the 
tyranny  of  Flashman  and  his  friends,  and,  now  that 
trouble  had  come  home  to  their  own  doors,  began  to 
look  out  for  sympathizers  and  partners  among  the  rest 
of  the  fags;  and  meetings  of  the  oppressed  began  to  be 
held,  and  murmurs  to  arise,  and  plots  to  be  laid  as  to 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

how  they  should  free  themselves  and  be  avenged  on 
their  enemies. 

While  matters  were  in  this  state,  East  and  Tom 
were  one  evening  sitting  in  their  study.  They  had 
done  their  work  for  first  lesson,  and  Tom  was  in  a 
brown  study,  brooding,  like  a  young  William  Tell, 
upon  the  wrongs  of  fags  in  general,  and  his  own  in 
particular. 

"  I  say,  Scud,"  said  he  at  last,  rousing  himself  to 
snuff  the  candle,  "  what  right  have  the  fifth-form  boys 
to  fag  us  as  they  do  ? " 

"  ]STo  more  right  than  you  have  to  fag  them,"  an- 
swered East,  without  looking  up  from  an  early  num- 
ber of  "  Pickwick,"  which  was  just  coming  out,  and 
which  he  was  luxuriously  devouring,  stretched  on  his 
back  on  the  sofa. 

Tom  relapsed  into  his  brown  study,  and  East 
went  on  reading  and  chuckling.  The  contrast  of  the 
boys'  faces  would  have  given  infinite  amusement  to  a 
looker-on,  the  one  so  solemn  and  big  with  mighty  pur- 
pose, the  other  radiant  and  bubbling  over  with  fun. 

"  Do  you  know,  old  fellow,  I've  been  thinking  it  over 
a  good  deal,"  began  Tom  again. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know,  fagging  you  are  thinking  of.  Hang 
it  all — but  listen  here  Tom — here's  fun.  Mr.  Winkle's 
horse " 

"  And-  I've  made  up  my  mind,"  broke  in  Tom,  "that 
I  won't  fag  except  for  the  sixth." 

"  Quite  right  too,  my  boy,"  cried  East,  putting  his 
finger  on  the  place  and  looking  up;  "but  a  pretty 
peck  of  troubles  you'll  get  into,  if  you're  going  to  play 
that  game.  However,  I'm  all  for  a  strike  myself,  if  we 
can  get  others  to  join — it's  getting  too  bad." 

"Can't  we  get  some  sixth-form  fellow  to  take  it 
up?  "asked  Tom. 


ICO  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"Well,  perhaps  we  might ;  Morgan  would  interfere, 
I  think.  Only,"  added  East,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
"you  see  we  should  have  to  tell  him  about  it,  and  that's 
against  school  principles.  Don't  you  remember  what 
old  Brooke  said  about  learning  to  take  our  own 
parts  ? " 

"  Ah,  I  wish  old  Brooke  were  back  again — it  was  all 
right  in  his  time." 

"  Why  yes,  you  see  then  the  strongest  and  best  fel- 
lows were  in  the  sixth,  and  the  fifth-form  fellows  were 
afraid  of  them,  and  they  kept  good  order ;  but  now  our 
sixth-form  fellows  are  too  small,  and  the  fifth  don't 
care  for  them,  and  do  what  they  like  in  the  house." 

"  And  so  wre  get  a  double  set  of  masters,"  cried  Tom, 
indignantly  ;  "  the  lawful  ones,  who  are  responsible  to 
the  doctor  at  any  rate,  and  the  unlawful — the  tyrants, 
who  are  responsible  to  nobody." 

"  Down  with  the  tyrants ! "  cried  East ;  "  I'm  all  for 
law  and  order,  and  hurra  for  a  revolution." 

"  I  shouldn't  mind  if  it  were  only  for  young  Brooke 
now,"  said  Tom,  "he's  such  a  good-hearted,  gentle- 
manly fellow,  and  ought  to  be  in  the  sixth — I'd  do 
anything  for  him.  But  that  blackguard  Flashman, 
who  never  speaks  to  one  without  a  kick  or  an  oath — 

"  The  cowardly  brute,"  broke  in  East,  "  how  I  hate 
him !  And  he  knows  it  too ;  he  knows  that  you  and  I 
think  him  a  coward.  What  a  bore  that  he's  got  a  study 
in  this  passage!  don't  you  hear  them  now  at  supper  in 
his  den  ?  Brandy  punch  going,  I'll  bet.  I  wish  the 
doctor  would  come  out  and  catch  him.  We  must 
change  our  study  as  soon  as  we  can." 

"  Change  or  no  change,  I'll  never  fag  for  him  again," 
said  Tom,  thumping  the  table. 

"  Fa-a-a-ag ! "    sounded    along    the    passage    from 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  lei 

Flashman's  study.  The  two  boys  looked  at  one  an- 
other in  silence.  It  had  struck  nine,  so  the  regular 
night-fags  had  left  duty,  and  they  were  the  nearest  to 
the  supper  party.  East  sat  up  and  began  to  look  com- 
ical, as  he  always  did  under  difficulties. 

"  Fa-a-a-ag !  "  again.    No  answer. 

"  Here,  Brown !  East !  you  cursed  young  skulks," 
roared  out  Flashman,  coming  to  his  open  door,  "I 
know  you're  in — no  shirking." 

Tom  stole  to  their  door,  and  drew  the  bolts  as  noise- 
lessly as  he  could ;  East  blew  out  the  candle.  "  Barri- 
cade the  first,"  whispered  he.  "  Now,  Tom,  mind,  no 
surrender." 

"  Trust  me  for  that,"  said  Tom  between  his  teeth. 

In  another  minute  they  heard  the  supper-party  turn 
out  and  come  down  the  passage  to  their  door.  They 
held  their  breaths  and  heard  whispering  of  which  they 
only  made  out  Flashman's  words,  "I  know  the  young 
brutes  are  in." 

Then  came  summonses  to  open,  which  being  unan- 
swered, the  assault  commenced :  luckily  the  door  was 
a  good  strong  oak  one,  and  resisted  the  united  weight 
of  Flashman's  party.  A  pause  followed,  and  they  heard 
a  besieger  remark,  "  They're  in,  safe  enough — don't  you 
see  how  the  door  holds  at  top  and  bottom  ?  so  the  bolts 
must  be  drawn.  We  should  have  forced  the  lock 
long  ago."  East  gave  Tom  a  nudge,  to  call  attention  to 
this  scientific  remark. 

Then  came  attacks  on  particular  panels,  one  of 
which  at  last  gave  way  to  the  repeated  kicks ;  but  it 
broke  inward,  and  the  broken  piece  got  jammed 
across,  the  door  being  lined  with  green-baize,  and 
couldn't  easily  be  removed  from  outside ;  and  the  be- 
sieged, scorning  further  concealment,  strengthened 


162  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

their  defenses  by  pressing  the  end  of  their  sofa  against 
the  door.  So  after  one  or  two  more  ineffectual  efforts 
Flashman  and  Co.  retired,  vowing  vengeance  in  no 
mild  terms. 

The  first  danger  over  it  only  remained  for  the  be- 
sieged to  effect  a  safe  retreat,  as  it  was  now  near  bed- 
time. They  listened  intently,  and  heard  the  supper- 
party  resettle  themselves,  and  then  gently  drew  back 
first  one  bolt  and  then  the  other.  Presently  the 
convivial  noises  began  again  steadily.  "  Now  then, 
stand  by  for  a  run,"  said  East,  throwing  the  door 
wide  open  and  rushing  into  the  passage,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  Tom.  They  were  too  quick  to  be  caught ; 
but  Flashman  was  on  the  look-out,  and  sent  an  empty 
pickle-jar  whizzing  after  them,  which  narrowly 
missed  Tom's  head,  and  broke  into  twenty  pieces  at 
the  end  of  the  passage.  "  He  wouldn't  mind  killing 
one  if  he  wasn't  caught,"  said  East,  as  they  turned  the 
corner. 

There  was  no  pursuit,  so  the  two  turned  into  the 
hall,  where  they  found  a  knot  of  small  boys  round  the 
fire.  Their  story  was  told — the  war  of  independence 
had  broken  out — who  would  join  the  revolutionary 
forces  ?  Several  others  present  bound  themselves  not 
to  fag  for  the  fifth-form  at  once.  One  or  two  only 
edged  off,  and  left  the  rebels.  What  else  could  they 
do?  " I've  a  good  mind  to  go  to  the  doctor  straight," 
said  Tom. 

"  That'll  never  do — don't  you  remember  the  levy  of 
the  school  last  half?"  put  in  another. 

In  fact,  that  solemn  assembly,  a  levy  of  the  school, 
had  been  held,  at  which  the  captain  of  the  school  had 
got  up,  and,  after  premising  that  several  instances  had 
occurred  of  matters  having  been  reported  to  the  masters 


TOM  BEOWK'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  163 

that  this  was  against  public  morality  and  school  tradi- 
tion ;  that  a  levy  of  the  sixth  had  been  held  on  the 
subject,  and  they  had  resolved  that  the  practice  must  be 
stopped  at  once  ;  had  given  out  that  any  boy,  in  what- 
ever form,  who  should  thenceforth  appeal  to  a  master, 
without  having  first  gone  to  some  praBpostor  and  laid 
the  case  before  him,  should  be  thrashed  publicly,  and 
sent  to  Coventry. 

"  Well,  then,  let's  try  the  sixth.  Try  Morgan," 
suggested  another.  "  No  use  " — "  blabbing  wont  do," 
was  the  general  feeling. 

"  I'll  give  you  fellows  a  piece  of  advice,"  said  a  voice 
from  the  end  of  the  hall.  They  all  turned  round  with 
a  start,  and  the  speaker  got  up  from  a  bench  on  which 
he  had  been  lying  unobserved,  and  gave  himself  a 
shake ;  he  was  a  big,  loose-made  fellow,  with  huge 
limbs  which  had  grown  too  far  through  his  jacket  and 
trousers.  "  Don't  you  go  to  anybody  at  all —  you  just 
stand  out;  say  you  won't  fag — they'll  soon  get  tired  of 
licking  you.  I've  tried  it  on  years  ago  with  their  fore- 
runners." 

"No!  did  you?  tell  us  how  it  was,"  cried  a  chorus  of 
voices,  as  they  clustered  round  him. 

"  Well,  just  as  it  is  with  you.  The  fifth-form  would 
fag  us,  and  I  and  some  more  struck,  and  we  beat 
'em.  The  good  fellows  left  off  directly,  and  the  bullies 
who  kept  on  soon  got  afraid." 

"  Wa$  Biashman  here  then  ? " 

"Yes land  a  dirty  little  snivelling,  sneaking  fellow 
he  was,  too.  He  dever  dared  join  us,  and  he  used  to 
toady  the  bullies  by  offering  to  fag  for  them,  and 
peaching  against  the  rest  of  us." 

"  Why  wasn't  he  cut  then? "  said  East. 

"Ob,  toadies  never  get  cut,  they're    too   useful, 


1G4  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Besides,  he  has  no  end  of  great  hampers  from  home, 
with  wine  and  game  in  them ;  so  he  toadied  and  fed 
himself  into  favor." 

The  quarter-to-ten  bell  now  rang,  and  the  small 
boys  went  off  up-stairs,  still  consulting,  together,  and 
praising  their  new  counsellor;  who  stretched  himself  out 
on  the  bench  before  the  hall  fire  again.  There  he  lay, 
a  very  queer  specimen  of  boyhood,  by  name  Diggs, 
and  familiarly  called  "  the  mucker."  He  was  young 
for  his  size,  and  a  very  clever  fellow,  nearly  at  the  top 
of  the  fifth.  His  friends  at  home,  having  regard,  I 
suppose,  to  his  age,  and  not  to  his  size  and  place  in  the 
school,  hadn't  put  him  into  tails ;  and  even  his  jackets 
\vereal\vaystoosmall;  and  he  had  a  talent  for  de- 
stroying clothes,  and  making  himself  look  shabby.  He 
wasn't  on  terms  with  Flashman's  set,  who  sneered  at 
his  dress  and  ways  behind  his  back,  which  he  knew, 
and  revenged  himself  by  asking  Flashman  the  most 
disagreeable  questions,  and  treating  him  familiarly 
whenever  a  crowd  of  boys  were  round  them.  Neither 
was  he  intimate  with  any  of  the  other  bigger  boys, 
who  were  warned  off  by  his  oddnesses,  for  he  was  a 
very  queer  fellow ;  besides,  among  other  failings,  he  had 
that  of  impecuniosity  in  a  remarkable  degree.  He 
brought  as  much  money  as  other  boys  to  school,  but 
got  rid  of  it  in  no  time,  no  one  knew  how.  And  then, 
being  also  reckless,  borrowed  from  any  one  and  when 
his  debts  accumulated  and  creditors  pressed,  would 
have  an  auction  in  the  hall  of  everything  he  possessed 
in  the  world,  selling  even  his  school-books,  candlestick, 
and  study  table.  For  weeks  after  one  of  these  auc- 
tions, having  rendered  his  study  uninhabitable,  lie 
would  live  about  in  the  fifth-form  room  and  hall,  doing 
Jjis  verse§  on  old  letter  backs  and  odd  scraps  of  paper, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  1C5 

and  learning  his  lessons  no  one  knew  how.  He  never 
meddled  with  any  little  boy,  and  was  popular  with 
them,  though  they  all  looked  on  him  with  a  sort  of 
compassion,  and  called  him  "  poor  Diggs,"  not  being 
able  to  resist  appearances,  or  to  disregard  wholly  even 
the  sneers  of  their  enemy  Flashman.  However,  he 
seemed  equally  indifferent  to  the  sneers  of  big  boys 
and  pity  of  small  ones,  and  lived  his  own  queer  life 
with  much  apparent  enjoyment  to  himself.  It  is  neces- 
sary to  introduce  Diggs  thus  particularly,  as  he  not 
only  did  Tom  and  East  good  service  in  their  present 
warfare,  as  is  about  to  be  told,  but  soon  afterward, 
when  he  got  into  the  sixth,  chose  them  for  his 
fags,  and  excused  them  from  study -fagging,  thereby 
earning  unto  himself  eternal  gratitude  from  them,  and 
all  who  are  interested  in  their  history. 

And  seldom  had  small  boys  more  need  of  a  friend, 
for  the  morning  after  the  siege  the  storm  burst  upon 
the  rebels  in  all  its  violence.  Flashman  laid  wait,  and 
caught  Tom  before  second  lesson,  and  receiving  a  point- 
blank  "  No,"  when  told  to  fetch  his  hat,  seized  him 
and  twisted  his  arm,  and  went  through  the  other 
methods  of  torture  in  use — "  He  couldn't  make  me  cry, 
though,"  as  Tom  said  triumphantly. to  the  rest  of  the 
rebels,  "  and  I  kicked  his  shins  well,  I  know."  And 
soon  it  crept  out  that  a  lot  of  the  fags  were  in  league, 
and  Flashman  excited  his  associates  to  join  him  in 
bringing  the  young  vagabonds  to  their  senses ;  and  the 
house  was  filled  with  constant  chasings,  and  sieges,  and 
lickings  of  all  sorts ;  and  in  return,  the  bullies'  beds 
were  pulled  to  pieces,  and  drenched  with  water,  and 
their  names  written  upon  the  walls  with  every  insult- 
ing epithet  which  the  fag  invention  could  furnish. 
The  war  in  short  raged  fiercely  ;  but  soon,  as  Diggs 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

had  told  them,  all  the  better  fellows  in  the  fifth  gave 
up  trying  to  fag  them,  and  public  feeling  began  to  set 
against  Flashman  and  his  two  or  three  intimates,  and 
they  were  obliged  to  keep  their  doings  more  secret ;  but 
being  thorough  bad  fellows,  missed  no  opportunity  of 
torturing  in  private.  Flashman  was  an  adept  in  all 
ways,  but  above  all  in  the  power  of  saying  cutting  and 
cruel  things,  and  could  often  bring  tears  to  the  eyes  of 
boys  in  this  way,  which  all  the  thrashings  in  the  world 
wouldn't  have  wrung  from  them. 

And  as  his  operations  were  being  cut  short  in  other 
directions,  he  now  devoted  himself  chiefly  to  Tom  and 
East,  who  lived  at  his  own  door,  and  would  force  him- 
self into  their  study  whenever  he  found  a  chance,  and 
sit  there,  sometimes  alone,  sometimes  with  a  companion, 
interrupting  all  their  work,  and  exulting  in  the  evident 
pain  which  every  now  and  then  he  could  see  he  was 
inflicting  on  one  or  the  other. 

The  storm  had  cleared  the  air  for  the  rest  of  the 
house,  and  a  better  state  of  things  now  began  than 
there  had  been  since  old  Brooke  had  left :  but  an  angry 
dark  spot  of  thunder-cloud  still  hung  over  the  end  of 
the  passage,  where  Flashman's  study  and  that  of  East 
and  Tom  lay. 

He  felt  that  they  had  been  the  first  rebels,  and  that 
the  rebellion  had  been  to  a  great  extent  successful ; 
but  what  above  all  stirred  the  hatred  and  bitterness  of 
his  heart  against  them,  was  that  in  the  frequent  col- 
lisions which  there  had  been  of  late,  they  had  openly 
called  him  coward  and  sneak — the  taunts  were  too 
true  to  be  forgiven.  While  he  was  in  the  act  of 
thrashing  them,  they  would  roar  out  instances  of  his 
funking  at  foot-ball,  or  shirking  some  encounter  with 
a  lout  of  half  his  own  size.  These  things  were  all  well 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  167 

enough  known  in  the  house,  but  to  have  his  disgrace 
shouted  out  by  small  boys,  to  feel  that  they  despised 
him,  to  be  unable  to  silence  them  by  any  amount  of 
torture,  and  to  see  the  open  laugh  and  sneer  of  his 
own  associates  (who  were  looking  on  and  took  no 
trouble  to  hide  their  scorn  from  him,  though  they 
neither  interfered  with  his  bullying  or  lived  a  bit  the 
less  intimately  with  him),  made  him  beside  himself. 
Come  what  might  he  would  make  those  boys'  lives  mis- 
erable. So  the  strife  settled  down  into  a  personal  af- 
fair between  Flashman  and  our  youngsters ;  a  war  to 
the  knife,  to  be  fought  out  in  the  little  cock-pit  at  the 
end  of  the  bottom  passage. 

Flashman,  be  it  said,  was  about  seventeen  years  old, 
and  big  and  strong  of  his  age.  He  played  well  at  all 
games  where  pluck  wasn't  much  wanted,  and  managed 
generally  to  keep  up  appearances  where  it  was ;  and 
having  a  bluff,  off-hand  manner,  which  passed  for 
heartiness,  and  considerable  powers  of  being  pleasant 
when  he  liked,  went  down  with  the  school  in  general 
for  a  good  fellow  enough.  Even  in  the  school-house, 
by  dint  of  his  command  of  money,  and  the  constant 
supply  of  good  things  which  he  kept  up,  and  his  adroit 
toadyism,  he  had  managed  to  make  himself  not  only 
tolerated,  but  rather  popular  among  his  own  contem- 
poraries; although  young  Brooke  scarcely  spoke  to 
him,  and  one  or  two  others  of  the  right  sort  showed 
their  opinions  of  him  whenever  a  chance  offered.  But 
the  wrong  sort  happened  to  be  in  the  ascendant  just 
now,  so  Flashman  was  a  formidable  enemy  for  small 
boys.  This  soon  became  plain  enough.  Flashman 
left  no  slander  unspoken,  and  no  deed  undone,  which 
could  in  any  way  hurt  his  victims,  or  isolate  them  from 
the  rest  of  the  house.  One  by  one  most  of  the  other 


168  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

rebels  fell  away  from  them,  while  Flashman's  cause 
prospered,  and  several  other  fifth-form  boys  began  to 
look  black  at  them  and  ill-treat  them  as  they  passed 
about  the  house.  By  keeping  out  of  bounds,  or  at  all 
events  out  of  the  house  and  quadrangle,  all  day,  and 
carefully  barring  themselves  in  at  night,  East  and  Tom 
managed  to  hold  on  without  feeling  very  miserable; 
but  it  was  as  much  as  they  could  do.  Greatly  were 
they  drawn  then  toward  old  Diggs  who,  in  an  uncouth 
way,  began  to  take  a  good  deal  of  notice  of  them,  and 
once  or  twice  came  to  their  study  when  Flashman  was 
there,  who  immediately  decamped  in  consequence. 
The  boys  thought  that  Diggs  must  have  been  watching. 

When  therefore,  about  this  time,  an  auction  was  one 
night  announced  to  take  place  in  the  hall,  at  which, 
among  the  superfluities  of  other  boys,  all  Diggs'  Pe- 
nates for  the  time  being  were  going  to  the  hammer, 
East  and  Tom  laid  their  heads  together,  and  resolved 
to  devote  their  ready  cash  (some  four  shillings  ster- 
ling) to  redeem  such  articles  as  that  sum  wrould  cover. 

Accordingly  they  duly  attended  to  bid,  and  Tom 
became  the  owner  of  two  lots  of  Diggs'  things — lot  1, 
price  one-and-three-pence,  consisting  (as  the  auctioneer 
remarked)  of  a  "  valuable  assortment  of  old  metals," 
in  the  shape  of  a  mouse-trap,  a  cheese-toaster  with- 
out a  handle,  and  a  saucepan :  lot  2,  of  a  villainous 
dirty  table-cloth  and  a  green-baize  curtain ;  while 
East  for  one-and-sixpence  purchased  a  leather  paper- 
case  with  a  lock  but  no  key,  once  handsome,  but  now 
much  the  wrorse  for  wear.  But  they  had  still  the 
point  to  settle  of  how  to  get  Diggs  to  take  the  things 
without  hurting  his  feelings.  This  they  solved  by 
leaving  them  in  his  study,  which  was  never  locked 
when  he  was  out.  Diggs,  who  had  attended  the 


TOM   BROWN'S   SCHOOL   DAYS.  169 

auction,  remembered  who  had  bought  the  lots,  and 
came  to  their  study  soon  after,  and  sat  silent  for  some 
time,  cracking  his  great  red  finger-joints.  Then  he 
laid  hold  of  their  verses,  and  began  looking  over  and 
altering  them,  and  at  last  got  up,  and  turning  his  back 
to  them,  said :  "  You're  uncommon  good-hearted  little 
beggars,  you  two — I  value  that  paper-case ;  my  sister 
gave  it  me  last  holidays — I  won't  forget;"  and  so 
tumbled  out  into  the  passage,  leaving  them  somewhat 
embarrassed,  but  not  sorry  that  he  knew  what  they 
had  done. 

The  next  morning  was  Saturday,  the  day  on  which 
the  allowances  of  one  shilling  a-week  were  paid,  an 
important  event  to  spendthrift  youngsters  ;  and  great 
was  the  disgust  among  the  small  fry  to  hear  that  all 
the  allowances  had  been  impounded  for  the  Derby 
lottery.  That  great  event  in  the  English  year,  the 
Derby,  was  celebrated  at  Eugby  in  those  days  by  many 
lotteries.  It  was  not  an  improving  custom,  I  own, 
gentle  reader,  and  led  to  making  books  and  betting 
and  other  objectionable  results ;  but  when  our  great 
Houses  of  Palaver  think  it  right  to  stop  the  nation's 
business  on  that  day,  and  many  of  the  members  bet 
heavily  themselves,  can  you  blame  us  boys  for  follow- 
ing the  example  of  our  betters  ?  at  any  rate  we  did 
follow  it.  First  there  was  the  great  school  lottery, 
where  the  first  prize  was  six  or  seven  pounds ;  then 
each  house  had  one  or  more  separate  lotteries.  These 
were  all  nominally  voluntary,  no  boy  being  compelled 
to  put  in  his  shilling  who  didn't  choose  to  do  so :  but 
besides  Flashman,  there  were  three  or  four  other  fast 
sporting  young  gentlemen  in  the  school-house,  who 
considered  subscription  a  matter  of  duty  and  necessity 
and  so,  to  make  their  duty  come  easy  to  the  small 


170  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

boys,  quietly  secured  the  allowances  in  a  lump  when 
given  out  for  distribution,  and  kept  them.  It  was  no 
use  grumbling — so  many  fewer  tartlets  and  apples 
were  eaten  and  fives'-balls  bought  on  that  Saturday ; 
and  after  locking  up,  when  the  money  would  other- 
wise have  been  spent,  consolation  was  carried  to 
many  a  small  boy,  by  the  sound  of  the  night-fags 
shouting  along  the  passages,  "  Gentlemen  sportsmen  of 
the  school-house,  the  lottery's  going  to  be  drawn  in  the 
hall."  It  was  pleasant  to  be  called  a  gentleman  sports- 
man— also  to  have  a  chance  of  drawing  a  favorite  horse. 

The  hall  was  full  of  boys,  and  at  the  head  of  one  of 
the  long  tables  stood  the  sporting  interest,  with  a  hat 
before  them,  in  which  were  the  tickets  folded  up.  One 
of  them  then  began  calling  out  the  list  of  the  house ; 
each  boy  as  his  name  was  called  drew  a  ticket  from  the 
hat  and  opened  it ;  and  most  of  the  bigger  boys,  after 
drawing,  left  the  hall  directly  to  go  back  to  their  studies 
or  the  fifth-form  room.  The  sporting  interest  had  all 
drawn  blanks,  and  they  were  sulky  accordingly ;  neither 
of  the  favorites  had  ye't  been  drawn,  and  it  had  come 
down  to  the  upper-fourth.  So  now,  as  each  small  boy 
came  up  and  drew  his  ticket,  it  was  seized  and  opened 
by  Flashman,  or  some  other  of  the  standers-by.  But 
no  great  favorite  is  drawn  until  it  comes  to  the  Tad- 
pole's turn,  and  he  shuffles  up  and  draws,  and  tries  to 
make  off,  but  is  caught,  and  his  ticket  is  opened  like 
the  rest. 

"Here  you  are!  "Wanderer!  the  third  favorite," 
shouts  the  opener. 

"I  say,  just  give  me  my  ticket,  please,"  remonstrates 
Tadpole. 

"Hullo,  don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  breaks  in  Flashman, 
"  what'll  you  sell  Wanderer  for;  now  ? " 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  171 

"  I  don't  want  to  sell,"  rejoins  Tadpole. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  ?  Now  listen,  you  young  fool — you 
don't  know  anything  about  it ;  the  horse  is  no  use  to 
you.  He  won't  win,  but  I  want  him  as  a  hedge.  Now 
I'll  give  you  half-a-crown  for  him."  Tadpole  holds 
out,  but  between  threats  and  cajoleries  at  length  sells 
half  for  one-shilling-and-sixpence,  about  a  fifth  of  its 
fair  market  value ;  however,  he  is  glad  to  realize  any- 
thing, and  as  he  wisely  remarks,  "  Wanderer  mayn't 
win,  and  the  tizzy  is  safe  anyhow." 

East  presently  comes  up  and  draws  a  blank.  Soon 
after  comes  Tom's  turn  ;  his  ticket,  like  the  others,  is 
seized  and  opened.  "  Here  you  are  then,"  shouts  the 
opener,  holding  it  up,  "  Harkaway !  By  Jove,  Flashey, 
your  young  friend's  in  luck." 

"  Give  me  the  ticket,"  says  Flashman  with  an  oath, 
leaning  across  the  table  with  open  hand,  and  his  face 
black  with  rage. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  it  ? "  replies  the  opener,  not  a 
bad  fellow  at  the  bottom,  and  no  admirer  of  Flash- 
man's.  "  Here,  Brown,  catch  hold,"  and  he  hands  the 
ticket  to  Tom,  who  pockets  it ;  whereupon  Flashman 
makes  for  the  door  at  once,  that  Tom  and  the  ticket 
may  not  escape,  and  there  keeps  watch  until  the  draw- 
ing is  over  and  all  the  boys  are  gone,  except  the  sport- 
ing set  of  five  or  six,  who  stay  to  compare  books,  make 
bets  and  so  on,  Tom,  who  doesn't  choose  to  move  while 
Flashman  is  at  the  door,  and  East,  who  stays  by  his 
friend,  anticipating  trouble. 

The  sporting  set  now  gathered  round  Tom.  Public 
opinion  wouldn't  allow  them  actually  to  rob  him  of  his 
ticket,  but  any  humbug  or  intimidation  by  which  he 
could  be  driven  to  sell  the  whole  or  part  at  an  under 
value  was  lawful. 


172  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  BAYS. 

"Now,  young  Brown,  come,  what'll  you  sell  me 
Harkaway  for  ?  I  hear  he  isn't  going  to  start.  I'll 
give  you  five  shillings  for  him,"  begins  the  boy  who 
had  opened  the  ticket.  Tom,  remembering  his  good 
deed,  and  moreover  in  his  forlorn  state  wishing  to 
make  a  friend,  is  about  to  accept  the  offer,  when  an- 
other cries  out,  "  I'll  give  you  seven  shillings."  Tom 
hesitated,  and  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

"No,  no!"  said  Flashman,  pushing  in,  "leave  me 
to  deal  with  him ;  we'll  draw  lots  for  it  afterward. 
Now,  sir,  you  know  me — you'll  sell  Harkaway  to  us  for 
five  shillings,  or  you'll  repent  it." 

"  I  won't  sell  a  bit  of  him,"  answered  Tom,  shortly. 

"You  hear  that  now?"  said  Flashman,  turning  to  the 
others.  "  He's  the  coxiest  young  blackguard  in  the 
house — I  always  told  you  so.  We're  to  have  all  the 
trouble  and  risk  of  getting  up  the  lotteries  for  the 
benefit  of  such  fellows  as  he." 

Flashman  forgets  to  explain  what  risk  they  ran,  but 
he  speaks  to  willing  ears.  Gambling  makes  boys  selfish 
and  cruel  as  well  as  men. 

"  That's  true — we  always  draw  blanks,"  cried  one. 
"Now,  sir,  you  shall  sell  half,  at  any  rate." 

"I  won't,"  said  Tom,  flushing  up  to  his  hair,  and 
lumping  them  all  in  his  mind  with  his  sworn  enemy. 

"  Very  well  then,  let's  roast  him,"  cried  Flashman, 
and  catches  hold  of  Tom  by  the  collar :  one  or  two 
boys  hesitate,  but  the  rest  join  in.  East  seizes  Tom's 
arm  and  tries  to  pull  him  away,  but  is  knocked  back 
by  one  of  the  boys,  and  Tom  is  dragged  along,  strug- 
gling. His  shoulders  are  pushed  against  the  mantel- 
piece, and  he  is  held  by  main  force  before  the  fire, 
Flashman  drawing  his  trousers  tight  by  way  of  extra 
torture.  Poor  East,  in  more  pain  even  than  Tom,  sud- 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  173 

denly  thinks  of  Diggs,  and  darts  off  to  find  him. 
"Will  you  sell  him  for  ten  shillings  ?"  says  one  boy 
who  is  relenting. 

Tom  only  answers  by  groans  and  struggles. 

"  I  say,  Flashey,  he  has  had  enough,"  says  the  same 
boy,  dropping  the  arm  he  holds. 

"  No,  no ;  another  turn'll  do  it,"  answers  Flashman. 
But  poor  Tom  is  done  already,  turns  deadly  pale,  and 
his  head  falls  forward  on  his  breast,  just  as  Diggs,  in 
frantic  excitement,  rushes  into  the  hall  with  East  at 
his  heels. 

"  You  cowardly  brutes ! "  is  all  he  can  say,  as  he 
catches  Tom  from  them  and  supports  him  to  the  hall 
table.  "  Good  God  !  he's  dying.  Here,  get  some  cold 
water — run  for  the  housekeeper." 

Flashman  and  one  or  two  others  slink  away ;  the 
rest,  ashamed  and  sorry,  bend  over  Tom  or  run  for 
water,  while  East  darts  off  for  the  housekeeper. 
Water  comes,  and  they  throw  it  on  his  hands  and  face, 
and  he  begins  to  come  to.  "  Mother  ! " — the  words 
came  feebly  and  slowly — ''it's  very  cold  to-night." 
Poor  old  Diggs  is  blubbering  like  a  child.  "Where 
am  I  ? "  goes  on  Tom,  opening  his  eyes.  "  Ah !  I 
remember  now,"  and  he  shut  his  eyes  again  and 
groaned. 

"  1  say,"  is  whispered,  "  we  can't  do  any  good,  and 
the  housekeeper  will  be  here  in  a  minute,"  and  all  but 
one  steal  away  ;  he  stays  with  Diggs,  silent  and  sor- 
rowful, and  fans  Tom's  face. 

The  housekeeper  comes  in  with  strong  salts,  and 
Tom  soon  recovers  enough  to  sit  up.  There  is  a  smell 
of  burning;  she  examines  his  clothes,  and  looks  up 
inquiringly.  The  boys  are  silent. 

"  Row  did  be  come  so  ? "    Ho  answer, 


174  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  There's  been  some  bad  work  here,"  she  adds  look^ 
ing  very  serious,  "  and  I  shall  speak  to  the  doctor 
about  it."  Still  no  answer. 

"Hadn't  we  better  carry  him  to  the  sick-room?" 
suggested  Diggs. 

"  Oh,  I  can  walk  now,"  says  Torn  ;  and,  supported 
by  East  and  the  housekeeper,  goes  to  the  sick-room. 
The  boy  who  held  his  ground  is  soon  among  the  rest, 
who  are  all  in  fear  of  their  lives.  "  Did  he  peach  ? " 
•'  Does  she  know  about  it  ?  " 

"Not  a  word — he's  a  stanch  little  fellow."  And 
pausing  a  moment  he  adds,  "  I'm  sick  of  this  work : 
what  brutes  we've  been  ! " 

Meantime  Tom  is  stretched  on  the  sofa  in  the  house- 
keeper's room,  with  East  by  his  side,  while  she  gets 
wine  and  water  and  other  restoratives. 

"Are  you  much  hurt,  dear  old  boy?"  whispers 
East. 

"  Only  the  back  of  my  legs,"  answers  Tom.  They 
are  indeed  badly  scorched,  and  part  of  his  trousers 
burned  through.  But  soon  he  is  in  bed  with  cold  ban- 
dages. At  first  he  feels  broken,  and  thinks  of  writing 
home  and  getting  taken  away  ;  and  the  verse  of  a 
hymn  he  had  learned  years  ago  sings  through  his  head, 
and  he  goes  to  sleep,  murmuring — 

"  Where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
And  the  weary  are  at  rest." 

But  after  a  sound  night's  rest  the  old  boy-spirit 
comes  back  again.  East  comes  in  reporting  that  the 
whole  house  is  with  him,  and  he  forgets  everything 
except  their  old  resolve,  never  to  be  beaten  by  that 
bully  Flashman. 


TOM  BROWJsf  S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  l*f» 

Not  a  word  could  the  housekeeper  extract  from 
either  of  them,  and  though  the  doctor  knew  all  that 
she  knew  that  morning,  he  never  knew  any  more. 

I  trust  and  believe  that  such  scenes  are  not  possible 
now  at  school,  and  that  lotteries  and  betting-books 
have  gone  out ;  but  I  am  writing  of  schools  as 
they  were  in  our  time,  and  must  gi?e  the  evil  with  the 
good. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  CHAPTER  OF  AOCEDRBTBL 


'  Wkeran  I  [speak]  of  most 
Of  marring  aeeideafebjr  flood  mad  field, 

t.»r  " 


Tom  came  back  into  school  after  a  couple  of 
days  in  the  sick-room,  he  found  matters  much  changed 
for  the  better,  as  East  had  Jed  him  to  expect.  Flash- 
man^  brutality  had  disgusted  most  even  of  his  inti- 
mate friends,  and  his  cowadice  had  once  more  been 
made  plain  to  the  house ;  for  Diggs  had  encountered 
him  on  the  morning  after  the  lottery,  and  after  high 
words  on  both  sides  had  struck  him,  and  the  blow  was 
not  returned.  However,  Flashey  was  not  unused  to 
this  sort  of  thing,  and  had  lived  through  as  awkward 
affairs  before,  and,  as  Diggs  had  said,  fed  and  toadied 
himself  back  into  favor  again.  Two  or  three  of  the 
boys  who  had  helped  to  roast  Tom  came  up  and  begged 
his  pardon,  and  thanked  him  for  not  telling  anything'. 
Morgan  sent  for  him,  and  was  inclined  to  take  the 
matter  up  warmly,  but  Tom  begged  him  not  to  do  it ; 
to  which  he  agreed,  on  Tom's  promising  to  come  to 
him  at  once  in  future — a  promise  which  I  regret  to 
say  he  didn't  keep.  Tom  kept  Harkaway  all  to  him- 
self, and  won  the  second  prize  in  the  lottery,  some 
thirty  shillings,  which  he  and  East  contrived  to  spend 
in  about  three  days,  in  the  purchase  of  pictures  for 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  1?7 

their  study,  two  new  bats  and  a  cricket-ball,  all  the 
best  that  could  be  got,  and  a  supper  of  sausages,  kid- 
neys, and  beefsteak  pies  to  all  the  rebels.  Light  come, 
light  go;  they  wouldn't  have  been  comfortable  with 
money  in  their  pockets  in  the  middle  of  the  half. 

The  embers  of  Flash  man's  wrath,  however,  were  still 
smoldering,  and  burst  out  every  now  and  then  in  sly 
blows  and  taunts,  and  they  both  felt  that  they  hadn't 
quite  done  with  him  yet.  It  wasn't  long,  however, 
before  the  last  act  of  that  drama  came,  and  with  it,  the 
end  of  bullying  for  Tom  and  East  at  Rugby.  They 
now  often  stole  out  into  the  hall  at  nights,  incited 
thereto,  partly  by  the  hope  of  finding  Diggs  there  and 
having  a  talk  with  him,  partly  by  the  excitement  of 
doing  something  which  was  against  rules  ;  for,  sad  to 
say,  both  of  our  youngsters,  since  their  loss  of  character 
for  steadiness  in  their  form,  had  got  into  the  habit  of 
doing  things  which  were  forbidden,  as  a  matter  of 
adventure;  just  in  the  same  way,  I  should  fancy,  as 
men  fall  into  smuggling,  and  for  the  same  sort  of 
reasons.  Thoughtlessness  in  the  first  place.  It  never 
occurred  to  them  to  consider  why  such  and  such  rules 
were  laid  down ;  the  reason  was  nothing  to  them  ;  and 
they  only  looked  upon  rules  as  a  sort  of  challenge 
from  the  role-makers,  which  it  would  be  rather  bad 
pluck  in  them  not  to  accept;  and  then  again,  in  the 
lower  parts  of  the  school  they  hadn't  enough  to  do. 
The  work  of  the  form  they  could  manage  to  get 
through  pretty  easily,  keeping  a  good  enough  place  to 
get  their  regular  yearly  remove ;  and  not  having  much 
ambition  beyond  this,  their  whole  superfluous  steam 
was  available  for  games  and  scrapes.  Now,  one  rule 
of  the  house  which  it  was  a  daily  pleasure  of  all  such 
boys  to  break,  was  that  after  supper  all  fags,  except  the 


It8  tOM   BROWNS  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

three  on  duty  in  the  passages,  should  remain  in  their 
own  studies  until  nine  o'clock;  and  if  caught  about  the 
passages  or  hall,  or  in  one  another's  studies,  they  were 
liable  to  punishments  or  caning.  The  rule  was  stricter 
than  its  observance ;  for  most  of  the  sixth  spent  their 
evenings  in  the  fifth-form  room,  where  the  library  was, 
and  the  lessons  were  learned  in  common.  Every  now 
and  then,  however,  a  praepostor  would  be  seized  with  a 
fit  of  district  visiting,  and  would  make  a  tour  of  the 
passages  and  hall  and  the  fags'  studies.  Then,  if  the 
owner  were  entertaining  a  friend  or  two,  the  first  kick 
at  the  door  and  ominous  "  Open  here,"  had  the  effect 
of  the  shadow  of  a  hawk  over  a  chicken-yard  ;  every 
one  cut  to  cover — one  small  boy  diving  under  the  sofa, 
another  under  the  table,  while  the  owner  would  hastily 
pull  down  a  book  or  two  and  open  them,  and  cry  out 
in  a  meek  voice,  "  Hullo,  who's  there  ? "  casting  an 
anxious  eye  round  to  see  that  no  protruding  leg  or 
elbow  could  betray  the  hidden  boys.  "Open,  sir, 
directly ;  it's  Snooks."  "  Oh,  I'm  very  sorry ;  I  didn't 
know  it  was  you,  Snooks ; "  and  then,  with  well-feigned 
zeal,  the  door  would  be  opened,  young  hopeful  praying 
that  that  beast  Snooks  mightn't  have  heard  the  scuffle 
caused  by  his  coming.  If  a  study  was  empty,  Snooks 
proceeded  to  draw  the  passages  and  hall  to  find  the 
truants. 

"Well,  one  evening,  in  forbidden  hours,  Tom  and 
East  were  in  the  hall.  They  occupied  the  seats  before 
the  fire  nearest  the  door,  while  Diggs  sprawled  as 
usual  before  the  further  fire.  He  was  busy  with  a 
copy  of  verses,  and  East  and  Tom  were  chatting  to- 
gether in  whispers  by  the  light  of  the  fire,  and 
splicing  a  favorite  old  fives' -bat  which  had  sprung. 
Presently  a  step  came  down  the  bottom  passage  j 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  179 

they  listened  a  moment,  assured  themselves  that  it 
wasn't  a  praepostor,  and  then  went  on  with  their  work 
and  the  door  swung  open,  and  in  walked  Flashman. 
He  didn't  see  Diggs,,  and  thought  it  a  good  chance  to 
keep  his  hand  in ;  and  as  the  boys  didn't  move  for 
him,  struck  one  of  them,  to  make  them  get  out  of  his 
way. 

"  What's  that  for  ? "  growled  the  assaulted  one. 

"  Because  I  choose.  You've  no  business  here ;  go  to 
your  study." 

•'  You  can't  send  us." 

"  Can't  I  ?  Then  I'll  thrash  you  if  you  stay,"  said 
Flashman,  savagely. 

"  I  say,  you  two,"  said  Diggs,  from  the  end  of  the 
hall,  rousing  up  and  resting  himself  on  his  elbow, 
"you'll  never  get  rid  of  that  fellow  till  you  can 
lick  him.  Go  in  at  him,  both  of  you — I'll  see  fair 
play." 

Flashman  was  taken  aback,  and  retreated  two  steps. 
East  looked  at  Tom.  "Shall  we  try?"  said  he. 
"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  desperately.  So  the  two  advanced 
on  Flashman,  with  clinched  fists  and  bleeding  hearts. 
They  were  about  up  to  his  shoulder,  but  tough  boys 
of  their  age,  and  in  perfect  training  :  while  he,  though 
strong  and  big,  was  in  poor  condition,  from  his  mon- 
strous habits  of  stuffing  and  want  of  exercise.  Coward 
as  he  was,  however,  Flashman  couldn't  swallow  such  an 
insult  as  this  ;  besides,  he  was  confident  of  having  easy 
work,  and  so  faced  the  boys  saying :  "  You  impudent 
young  blackguards ! "  Before  he  could  finish  his 
abuse,  they  rushed  in  on  him,  and  began  pummeling 
at  all  of  him  which  they  could  reach.  He  hit  out 
wildly  and  savagely,  but  the  full  force  of  his  blows 
didn't  tell;  they  were  too  near  him.  It  was  long  odds 


180  TOM   BROWN'S   SCHOOL   DAYS. 

though  in  point  of  strength,  and  in  another  minute 
Tom  went  spinning  backward  over  a  form,  and 
Flashman  turned  to  demolish  East,  with  a  savage 
grin.  But  now  Biggs  jumped  down  from  the  table 
on  which  he  had  seated  himself.  "  Stop  there," 
shouted  he ;  "  the  round's  over — half  minute  time  al- 
lowed. 

"  What  the is  it  to  you  ?  "  faltered  Flashman, 

who  began  to  lose  heart 

"I'm  going  to  see  fair,  I  tell  you,"  said  Diggs  with 
a  grin,  and  snapping  his  great  red  fingers;  "  'tain't  fair 
for  you  to  be  fighting  one  of  them  at  a  time.  Are  you 
ready,  Brown  ?  Time's  up." 

The  small  boys  rushed  in  again.  Closing  they  saw 
was  their  best  chance,  and  Flashman  was  wilder  and 
more  flurried  than  ever:  he  caught  East  by  the  throat, 
and  tried  to  force  him  back  on  the  iron-bound-table ; 
Tom  grasped  his  waist,  and,  remembering  the  old 
throw  he  had  learned  in  the  Vale  from  Harry 
Winburn,  crooked  his  leg  inside  Flashman's,  and 
threw  his  whole  weight  forward.  The  three  tottered 
for  a  moment,  and  then  over  they  went  on  to  the 
floor,  Flashman  striking  his  head  against  a  form  in  the 
hall. 

The  two  youngsters  sprang  to  their  legs,  but  he 
lay  there  still.  They  began  to  be  frightened.  Tom 
stooped  down,  and  then  cried  out,  scared  out  of  his 
wits.  "  He's  bleeding  awfully  ;  come  here  East,  Diggs 
—he's  dying." 

"Not  he,"  said  Diggs,  getting  leisurely  off  the 
table.  "It's  all  sham — he's  only  afraid  to  fight  it 
out. 

East  was  as  frightened  as  Tom.  Diggs  lifted  Flash- 
man's  head,  and  he  groaned. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  181 

"  What's  the  matter?"  shouted  Diggs. 

"  My  skull's  fractured,"  sobbed  Flashman. 

"  Oh,  let  me  run  for  the  housekeeper,"  cried  Tom. 
"What  shall  we  do?" 

"Fiddlesticks!  it's  nothing  but  the  skin  broken." 
said  the  relentless  Diggs,  feeling  his  head.  "  Cold 
water  and  a  bit  of  rag's  all  he'll  want." 

"  Let  me  go,"  said  Flashman,  surlily,  sitting  up ; 
"  I  don't  want  your  help." 

"  We're  really  very  sorry,"  began  East. 

"  Hang  your  sorrow,"  answered  Flashman,  holding 
his  handkerchief  to  the  place;  "you  shall  pay  for  this, 
I  can  tell  you,  both  of  you."  And  he  walked  out  of 
the  hall. 

"  He  can't  be  very  bad,"  said  Tom  with  a  deep  sigh, 
much  relieved  to  see  his  enemy  march  so  well. 

"Not  he,"  said  Diggs,  "and  you'll  see  you  won't 
be  troubled  with  him  any  more.  But,  I  say,  your 
head  is  broken  too — your  collar  is  covered  with 
blood." 

"  Is  it,  though  ?  "  said  Tom,  putting  up  his  hand ; 
"  I  didn't  know  it." 

"  Well,  mop  it  up,  or  you'll  have  your  jacket  spoiled. 
And  you  have  got  a  nasty  eye,  Scud  ;  you'd  better  go 
and  bathe  it  well  in  cold  water." 

"Cheap  enough  too,  if  we've  done  with  our  old 
friend  Flashey,"  said  East,  as  they  made  off  up-stairs 
to  bathe  their  wounds. 

They  had  done  with  Flashman  in  one  sense,  for  he 
never  laid  a  finger  on  either  of  them  again  ;  but  what- 
ever harm  a  spiteful  heart  and  venomous  tongue  could 
<!<>  them  he  took  care  should  be  done.  Only  throw 
dirt  enough,  and  some  of  it  is  sure  to  stick  ;  and  so  it 
was  with  the  fifth-form  and  the  bigger  boys  in  gen- 


182  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

eral,  with  whom  he  associated  more  or  less,  and  they 
not  at  all.  Flashman  managed  to  get  Tom  and  East 
into  disfavor,  which  did  not  wear  off  for  some  time 
after  the  author  of  it  had  disappeared  from  the  school 
world.  This  event  much  prayed  for  by  the  small  fry 
in  general,  took  place  a  few  months  after  the  above 
encounter.  One  fine  summer  evening  Flashraan  had 
been  regaling  himself  on  gin-punch,  at  Brownsover ; 
and  having  exceeded  his  usual  limits,  started  home  up- 
roarious. He  fell  in  with  a  friend  or  two  coming  back 
from  bathing,  proposed  a  glass  of  beer,  to  which  they 
assented,  the  weather  being  hot,  and  they  thirsty  souls 
and  unaware  of  the  quantity  of  drink  which  Flash- 
man had  already  on  board.  The  short  result  was, 
that  Flashy  became  beastly  drunk ;  they  tried  to  get 
him  along,  but  couldn't;  so  they  chartered  a  hurdle 
and  two  men  to  carry  him.  One  of  the  masters  came 
upon  them,  and  they  naturally  enough  fled.  The 
flight  of  the  rest  raised  the  master's  suspicions,  and  the 
good  angel  of  the  fags  incited  him  to  examine  the 
freight,  and,  after  examination,  to  convoy  the  hurdle 
himself  up  to  the  school-house ;  and  the  doctor,  who 
had  long  had  his  eye  on  Flashman,  arranged  for  his 
withdrawal  next  morning. 

The  evil  that  men,  and  boys  too,  do,  lives  after  them : 
Flashman  was  gone,  but  our  boys,  as  hinted  above,  still 
felt  the  effects  of  his  hate.  Besides,  they  had  been  the 
movers  of  the  strike  against  unlawful  fagging.  The 
cause  was  righteous — the  result  had  been  triumphant 
to  a  great  extent ;  but  the  best  of  the  fifth,  even  those 
who  had  never  fagged  the  small  boys,  or  had  given  up 
the  practice  cheerfully,  couldn't  help  feeling  a  small 
grudge  against  the  first  rebels.  After  all,  their  form 
had  been  defied — on  just  grounds,  no  doubt ;  so  just, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  183 

indeed,  that  they  had  at  once  acknowledged  the  wrong 
und  remained  passive  in  the  strife :  had  they  sided  with 
Flashman  and  his  set,  the  rebels  must  have  given  way 
at  once.  They  couldn't  help,  on  the  whole,  being  glad 
that  they  had  so  acted,  and  that  the  resistance  had 
been  successful  against  such  of  their  own  form  as  had 
shown  fight ;  they  felt  that  law  and  order  had  gained 
thereby,  but  the  ringleaders  they  couldn't  quite  pardon 
at  once.  "  Confoundly  coxy  those  young  rascals  will 
get,  if  we  don't  mind,"  was  the  general  feeling. 

So  it  is,  and  must  be  always,  my  dear  boys.  If  the 
angel  Gabriel  were  to  come  down  from  heaven,  and 
head  a  successful  rise  against  the  most  abominable  and 
unrighteous  vested  interest,  which  this  poor  old  world 
groans  under,  he  would  most  certainly  lose  his  character 
for  many  years,  probably  for  centuries,  not  only  with 
upholders  of  said  vested  interest,  but  with  the  respect- 
able mass  of  the  people  whom  he  had  delivered.  They 
wouldn't  ask  him  to  dinner,  or  let  their  names  appear 
with  his  in  the  papers ;  they  would  be  very  careful  how 
they  spoke  of  him  in  the  Palaver,  or  at  their  clubs. 
What  can  we  expect,  then,  when  we  have  only  poor 
gallant  blundering  men  like  Kossuth,  Garibaldi,  Maz- 
zini,  and  righteous  causes  which  do  not  triumph  in  their 
hands;  men  who  have  holes  enough  in  their  armor, 
God  knows,  easy  to  be  hit  by  respectabilities  sitting 
in  their  lounging  chairs,  and  having  large  balances  at 
their  bankers?  But  you  are  brave,  gallant  boys,  who 
hate  easy-chairs,  and  have  no  balances  or  bankers. 
You  only  want  to  have  your  heads  set  straight  to  take 
the  right  side :  so  bear  in  mind  that  majorities,  espe- 
cially respectable  ones,  are  nine  times  out  of  ten  in  the 
wrong;  and  that  if  you  see  a  man  or  boy  striving 
earnestly  on  the  weak  side,  however  wrong-headed  or 


184  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

blundering  he  may  be,  you  are  not  to  go  and  join  the 
cry  against  him.  If  you  can't  join  him  and  help  him, 
and  make  him  wiser,  at  any  rate  remember  that  he  has 
found  something  in  the  world  which  he  will  fight  and 
suffer  for,  which  is  just  what  you  have  got  to  do  for 
yourselves;  and  so  think  and  speak  of  him  tenderly. 

So  East  and  Tom,  the  Tadpole,  and  one  or  two  more, 
became  a  sort  of  young  Ishmaelites,  their  hands  against 
every  one,  and  every  one's  hand  against  them.  It  has 
been  already  told  how  they  got  to  war  wTith  the  mas- 
ters and  the  fifth-form,  and  with  the  sixth  it  was  much 
the  same.  They  saw  the  prasposters  cowed  by  or  join- 
ing with  the  fifth,  and  shirking  their  own  duties ;  so 
they  didn't  respect  them,  and  rendered  no  willing 
obedience.  It  had  been  one  thing  to  clean  out  studies 
for  sons  of  heroes  like  old  Brooke,  but  quite  another  to 
do  the  like  for  Snooks  and  Green,  who  had  never  faced 
a  good  scrummage  at  football,  and  couldn't  keep  the 
passages  in  order  at  night.  So  they  only  slurred 
through  their  fagging  just  well  enough  to  escape  a 
licking,  and  not  always  that,  and  got  the  character  of 
sulky,  unwilling  fags.  In  the  fifth-form  room,  after 
supper,  when  such  matters  were  often  discussed  and 
arranged,  their  names  were  forever  coming  up. 

"  I  say,  Green,"  Snooks  began  one  night,  "  isn't  that 
new  boy,  Harrison,  your  fag  ? " 

"Yes;  why?" 

"  Oh,  I  know  something  of  him  at  home,  and  should 
like  to  excuse  him — will  you  swop?" 

"  Who  will  you  give  me  ? " 

"Well,  let's  see;  there's  Willis,  Johnson. — No,  that 
won't  do.  Yes,  I  have  it — there's  young  East,  I'll  give 
you  him." 

"  Pon't  you  wish  you  may  get  it  ? "  replied  Green, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  185 

"  I'll  ten  you  what  I'll  do— I'll  give  you  two  for  Willis 
if  you  like." 

"  Who  then  ? "  asks  Snooks. 

"Hall  and  Brown." 

"  Wouldn't  have  them  at  a  gift." 

"  Better  than  East  though ;  for  they  ain't  quite  so 
sharp,"  said  Green,  getting  up  and  leaning  his  back 
against  the  mantelpiece — he  wasn't  a  bad  fellow,  and 
couldn't  help  not  being  able  to  put  down  the  unruly 
fifth-form.  His  eye  twinkled  as  he  went  on,  "Did 
I  ever  tell  you  how  the  young  vagabond  sold  me  last 
half?" 

"No;  how?" 

"Well,  he  never  half  cleaned  my  study  out,  only 
just  stuck  the  candlesticks  in  the  cupboard,  and  swept 
the  crumbs  on  to  the  floor.  So  at  last  I  was  mortal 
angry,  and  had  him  up,  made  him  go  through  the 
whole  performance  under  my  eyes :  the  dust  the  young 
scamp  made  nearly  choked  me,  and  showed  that  he 
hadn't  swept  the  carpet  before.  Well,  when  it  was  all 
finished,  '  Now,  young  gentleman,'  says  I,  '  mind,  I  ex- 
pect this  to  be  done  every  morning,  floor  swept,  table- 
cloth taken  off  and  shaken,  and  everything  dusted.' 
'  Very  well,'  grunts  he.  Not  a  bit  of  it  though — I  was 
quite  sure  in  a  day  or  two  that  he  never  took  the  table- 
cloth off  even.  So  I  laid  a  trap  for  him  :  I  tore  up 
some  paper  and  put  half-a-dozen  bits  on  my  table  one 
night,  and  the  cloth  over  them  as  usual.  Next  morn- 
ing, after  breakfast,  up  I  came,  pulled  off  the  cloth,  and 
sure  enough  there  was  the  paper,  which  fluttered  down 
on  to  the  floor.  I  was  in  a  towering  rage.  'I've  got 
you  now,'  thought  I,  and  sent  for  him,  while  1  got  out 
my  cane.  Up  he  came  as  cool  as  you  please,  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  '  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  shake  my 


186  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

table-cloth  every  morning?'  roared  I.  'Yes,'  says 
he.  '  Did  you  do  it  this  morning  ? '  '  Yes.'  '  You 
young  liar !  I  put  these  pieces  of  paper  on  the 
table  last  night,  and  if  you'd  taken  the  table-cloth  off 
you'd  have  seen  them,  so  I'm  going  to  give  you  a  good 
licking.'  Then  my  }roungster  takes  one  hand  out  of 
his  pocket,  and  just  stoops  down  and  picks  up  two  of 
the  bits  of  paper,  and  holds  them  out  to  me.  There 
was  written  on  each,  in  great  round  text,  '  Harry  East, 
his  mark.'  The  young  rogue  had  found  my  trap  out, 
taken  away  my  paper,  and  put  some  of  his  there,  every 
bit  ear-marked.  I'd  a  great  mind  to  lick  him  for  his 
impudence,  but  after  all  one  has  no  right  to  be  laying 
traps,  so  I  didn't.  Of  course  I  was  at  his  mercy  till  the 
end  of  the  half,  and  in  his  weeks  my  study  was  so 
frowsy,  I  couldn't  sit  in  it." 

"  They  spoil  one's  things  so,  too,"  chimed  in  a  third 
boy.  "  Hall  and  Brown  were  night-fags  last  week  :  I 
called  fag,  and  gave  them  my  candlesticks  to  clean ; 
away  they  went,  and  didn't  appear  again.  When  they'd 
had  time  enough  to  clean  them  three  times  over,  I  went 
out  to  look  after  them.  They  weren't  in  the  passages, 
so  down  I  went  into  the  hall,  where  I  heard  music, 
and  there  I  found  them  sitting  on  the  table,  listening 
to  Johnson,  who  was  playing  the  flute,  and  my  candle- 
sticks stuck  between  the  bars  well  into  the  fire,  red-hot, 
clean  spoiled ;  they've  never  stood  straight  since,  and 
I  must  get  some  more.  However,  I  gave  them  both  a 
good  licking,  that's  one  comfort." 

Such  were  the  sort  of  scrapes  they  were  always 
getting  into :  and  so,  partly  by  their  own  faults,  partly 
from  circumstances,  partly  from  the  faults  of  others, 
they  found  themselves  outlaws,  ticket-of -leave  men,  or 
what  you  will  in  that  line :  in  short,  dangerous  parties. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  18? 

and  lived  the  sort  of  hand-to-mouth,  wild,  reckless  life 
which  such  parties  generally  have  to  put  up  with. 
Nevertheless,  they  never  quite  lost  favor  with  young 
Brooke,  who  was  now  the  cock  of  the  house,  and  just 
getting  into  the  sixth,  and  Diggs  stuck  to  them  like  a 
man,  and  gave  them  store  of  good  advice,  by  which 
they  never  in  the  least  profited. 

And  even  after  the  house  mended,  and  law  and  order 
had  been  restored,  which  soon  happened  after  young 
Brooke  and  Diggs  got  into  the  sixth,  they  couldn't 
easily  or  at  once  return  into  the  paths  of  steadiness, 
and  many  of  the  old  wild,  out-of-bounds  habits  stuck 
to  them  as  firmly  as  ever.  While  they  had  been  quite 
little  boys,  the  scrapes  they  got  into  in  the  school 
hadn't  much  mattered  to  any  one ;  but  now  they  were 
in  the  upper  school,  all  wrong-doers  from  which  were 
sent  up  straight  to  the  doctor  at  once ;  so  they  began 
to  come  under  his  notice ;  and  as  they  were  a  sort  of 
leaders  in  a  small  way  among  their  own  contempo- 
raries, his  eye,  which  was  everywhere,  was  upon 
them. 

It  was  a  toss-up  whether  they  turned  out  well  or  ill, 
and  so  they  were  just  the  boys  who  caused  most  anxiety 
to  such  a  master.  You  have  been  told  of  the  first 
occasion  on  which  they  were  sent  up  to  the  doctor,  and 
the  remembrance  of  it  was  so  pleasant  that  they  had 
much  less  fear  of  him  than  most  boys  of  their  stand- 
ing had.  "  It's  all  his  look,"  Tom  used  to  say  to  East, 
"that  frightens  fellows;  don't  you  remember,  he  never 
said  anything  to  us  my  first  half-year,  for  being  an 
hour  late  for  locking  up  ? " 

The  next  time  that  Tom  came  before  him,  however, 
the  interview  was  of  a  very  different  kind.  It  hap- 
pened just  about  the  time  at  which  we  have  now  ar- 


188  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

rived,  and  was  the  first  of  a  series  of  scrapes  into 
which  our  hero  managed  now  to  tumble. 

The  river  Avon,  at  Rugby,  is  a  slow  and  not  very 
clear  stream,  in  which  chub,  dace,  roach,  and  other 
coarse  fish  are  (or  were)  plentiful  enough,  together 
with  a  fair  sprinkling  of  small  jack,  but  no  fish  worth 
sixpence  either  for  sport  or  food.  It  is,  however,  a 
capital  river  for  bathing,  as  it  has  many  nice  small 
pools  and  several  good  reaches  for  swimming,  all  within 
about  a  mile  of  one  another,  and  at  an  easy  twenty 
minutes'  walk  from  the  school.  This  mile  of  water  is 
rented,  or  used  to  be  rented,  for  bathing  purposes,  by 
the  trustees  of  the  school,  for  the  boys.  The  footpath 
to  Brownsover  crosses  the  river  by  "  the  planks,"  a 
curious  old  single-plank  bridge,  running  for  fifty  or 
sixty  yards  into  the  flat  meadows  on  each  side  of  the 
river — for  in  the  winter  there  are  frequent  floods. 
Above  the  Planks  were  the  bathing  places  for  the 
smaller  boys ;  Sleath's,the  first  bathing  place  where  all 
new  boys  had  to  begin,  until  they  had  proved  to  the 
bathing  men  (three  steady  individuals  who  were  paid 
to  attend  daily  through  the  summer  to  prevent  acci- 
dents) that  they  could  swim  pretty  decently,  when 
they  were  allowed  to  go  on  to  Anstey's,  about  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  yards  below.  Here  there  was  a  hole 
about  six  feet  deep  and  twelve  feet  across,  over  which 
the  puffing  urchins  struggled  to  the  opposite  side,  and 
thought  no  small  beer  of  themselves  for  having  been 
out  of  their  depths.  Below  the  Planks  came  larger 
and  deeper  holes,  the  first  of  which  was  Wratislaw'a 
and  the  last  Swift's,  a  famous  hole,  ten  or  twelve  feet 
deep  in  parts,  and  thirty  yards  across,  from  which  there 
was  a  fine  swimming  reach  right  down  to  the  mill. 
Swift's  was  reserved  for  the  sixth  and  fifth  forms,  and 


TOM  BKOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  189 

had  a  spring  board  and  two  sets  of  steps:  the  others 
had  one  set  of  steps  each,  and  were  used  indifferently 
by  all  the  lower  boys,  though  each  house  addicted  itself 
more  to  one  hole  than  to  another.  The  school-house 
at  this  time  affected  Wratislaw's  hole,  and  Tom  and 
East,  who  had  learned  to  swim  like  fishes,  were  to  be 
found  there  as  regular  as  the  clock  through  the  sum- 
mer, always  twice,  and  often  three  times  a  day. 

Now  the  boys  either  had,  or  fancied  they  had,  a  right 
also  to  fish  at  their  pleasure  over  the  whole  of  this  part 
of  the  river,  and  would  not  understand  that  the  right 
(if  any)  only  extended  to  the  Rugby  side.  As  ill  luck 
would  have  it,  the  gentleman  who  owned  the  opposite 
bank,  after  allowing  it  for  some  time  without  interfer- 
ence, had  ordered  his  keepers  not  to  let  the  boys  fish 
on  his  side ;  the  consequence  of  which  had  been,  that 
there  had  been  first  wranglings  and  then  fights  between 
the  keepers  and  boys;  and  so  keen  had  the  quarrel 
become,  that  the  landlord  and  his  keepers,  after  a 
ducking  had  been  inflicted  on  one  of  the  latter,  and  a 
fierce  fight  ensued  thereon,  had  been  up  to  the  great 
school  at  calling-over  to  identify  the  delinquents,  and 
it  was  all  the  doctor  himself  and  five  or  six  masters 
could  do  to  keep  the  peace.  Not  even  his  authority 
could  prevent  the  hissing ;  and  so  strong  was  the  feel- 
ing, that  the  four  prapostors  of  the  week  walked  up  the 
school  with  their  canes,  shouting  "  S-s-s-s  i-lenc-c-c  c-e  " 
at  the  top  of  their  voices.  However,  the  chief  offenders 
for  the  time  were  flogged  and  kept  in  bounds,  but  the 
victorious  party  had  brought  a  nice  hornets'  nest  about 
their  ears.  The  landlord  was  hissed  at  the  school  gates 
as  he  rode  past,  and  when  he  charged  his  horse  at  the 
mob  of  boys,  and  tried  to  thrash  them  with  his  whip, 
was  driven  back  by  cricket-bats  and  wickets,  and  pur- 


190  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

sued  with  pebbles  and  fives'-balls  ;  while  the  wretched 
keepers'  lives  were  a  burthen  to  them,  from  having  to 
watch  the  waters  so  closely. 

The  school-house  boys  of  Tom's  standing,  one  and 
all,  as  a  protest  against  this  tyranny  and  cutting  short 
of  their  lawful  amusements,  took  to  fishing  in  all  ways 
and  especially  by  means  of  night-lines.  The  little 
tackle-maker  at  the  bottom  of  the  town  would  soon 
have  made  his  fortune  had  the  rage  lasted,  and  several 
of  the  barbers  began  to  lay  in  fishing-tackle.  The  boys 
had  this  great  advantage  over  their  enemies,  that  they 
spent  a  large  portion  of  the  day  in  nature's  garb  by 
the  river  side,  and  so,  when  tired  of  swimming,  would 
get  out  on  the  other  side  and  fish,  or  set  night-lines 
till  the  keeper  hove  in  sight,  and  then  plunge  in  and 
swim  back  and  mix  with  the  other  bathers,  and 
the  keepers  were  too  wise  to  follow  across  the 
stream. 

While  things  were  in  this  state,  one  day  Tom  and 
three  or  four  others  were  bathing  at  Wratislaw's,  and 
had,  as  a  matter  of  course,  been  taking  up  and  re-set- 
ting night  lines.  They  had  all  left  the  water,  and 
were  sitting  or  standing  about  at  their  toilets,  in  all 
costumes  from  a  shirt  upward,  when  they  were  aware 
of  a  man  in  a  velveteen  shooting-coat  approaching 
from  the  other  side.  He  was  a  new  keeper,  so  they 
didn't  recognize  or  notice  him,  till  he  pulled  up  right 
opposite,  and  began : 

"  I  see'd  some  of  you  young  gentlemen  over  this  side 
a  fishing  just  now." 

"Hullo,  who  are  you?  what  business  is  that  of 
yours,  old  Velveteens  ?  " 

"  I'm  the  new  under-keeper,  and  master's  told  me  to 
keep  a  sharp  look-out  on.  all  o'  you  young  chaps,  AmJ 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  191 

I  tells  'eel  means  business,  and  you'd  better  keep  on 
your  own  side,  or  we  shall  fall  out." 

"  Well,  that's  right,  Velveteens — speak  out,  and  let's 
know  your  mind  at  once." 

"  Look  here,  old  boy,"  cried  East,  holding  up  a  miser- 
able coarse  fish  or  two  and  a  small  jack,  "  would  you 
like  to  smell  'em  and  see  which  bank  they  lived 
under?" 

"  I'll  give  you  a  bit  of  advice,  keeper,"  shouted  Tom, 
who  was  sitting  in  his  shirt  paddling  with  his  feet  in 
the  river;  "you'd  better  go  down  there  to  Swift's, 
where  the  big  boys  are,  they're  beggars  at  setting 
lines,  and  '11  put  you  up  to  a  wrinkle  or  two  for  catch- 
ing the  five-pounders."  Tom  was  nearest  to  the 
keeper,  and  that  officer,  who  was  getting  angry  at  the 
chaff,  fixed  his  eyes  on  our  hero,  as  if  to  take  a  note 
of  him  for  future  use.  Tom  returned  his  gaze  with  a 
steady  stare,  and  then  broke  into  a  laugh,  and  struck 
into  the  middle  of  a  favorite  school-house  song : 

As  I  and  my  companions 

Were  setting  of  a  snare, 
The  gamekeeper  was  watching  us, 

For  him  we  did  not  care  : 
For  we  can  wrestle  and  fight,  my  boys, 
And  jump  out  anywhere. 
For  it's  my  delight  of  a  likely  night, 
In  the  season  of  the  year. 

The  chorus  was  taken  up  by  the  other  boys  with 
shouts  of  laughter,  and  the  keeper  turned  away  with 
a  grunt,  but  evidently  bent  on  mischief.  The  boys 
thought  no  more  of  the  matter. 

But  now  came  on  the  may-fly  season  ;  the  soft,  hazy 
summer  weather  lay  sleepily  along  the  rich  meadows 
by  Avon  side,  and  the  green  and  gray  flies  flickered 


192  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

with  their  graceful,  lazy,  up-and-down  flight  over  the 
reeds  and  the  water  and  the  meadows,  in  myriads  upon 
myriads.  The  may-flies  must  surely  be  the  lotus-eaters 
of  the  ephemera? ;  the  happiest,  laziest,  carelessest  fly 
that  dances  and  dreams  out  his  few  hours  of  sunshiny 
life  by  English  rivers. 

Every  little  pitiful  coarse  fish  in  the  Avon  was  on 
the  alert  for  the  flies,  and  gorging  his  wretched  carcass 
with  hundreds  daily,  the  gluttonous  rogues ;  and  every 
lover  of  the  gentle  craft  was  out  to  avenge  the  poor 
may-flies. 

So  one  fine  Thursday  afternoon,  Tom  having  bor- 
rowed East's  new  rod,  started  by  himself  to  the  river. 
He  fished  for  some  time  with  small  success,  not  a  fish 
would  rise  at  him ;  but,  as  he  prowled  along  the  bank, 
he  was  presently  aware  of  mighty  ones  feeding  in  a 
pool  on  the  opposite  side,  under  the  shade  of  a  huge 
willow-tree.  The  stream  was  deep  here,  but  some  fifty 
yards  below  was  a  shallow,  for  which  he  made  off  hot- 
foot ;  and  forgetting  landlords,  keepers,  solemn  prohibi- 
tions of  the  doctor,  and  everything  else,  pulled  up  his 
trousers,  plunged  across,  and  in  three  minutes  was 
creeping  along  on  all  fours  toward  the  clump  of 
willows. 

It  isn't  often  that  great  chub,  or  any  other  coarse 
fish  are  in  earnest  about  anything,  but  just  then  they 
were  thoroughly  bent  on  feeding,  and  in  half-an-hour 
Master  Tom  had  deposited  three  thumping  fellows  at 
the  foot  of  the  giant  willow.  As  he  was  baiting  for  a 
fourth  pounder,  and  just  going  to  throw  in  again,  he 
became  aware  of  a  man  coming  up  the  bank  not  one 
hundred  yards  off.  Another  look  told  him  that  it  was 
the  under-keeper.  Could  he  reach  the  shallow  before 
him  ?  No,  not  carrying  his  rod.  Nothing  for  it  but 


tow  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  193 

the  tree :  so  Tom  laid  his  bones  to  it,  shinning  up  as 
fast  as  he  could,  and  dragging  up  his  rod  after  him. 
He  had  just  time  to  reach  and  crouch  along  upon  a 
huge  branch  some  ten  feet  up,  which  stretched  out  over 
the  river,  when  the  keeper  arrived  at  the  clump.  Tom's 
heart  beat  fast  as  he  came  under  the  tree  ;  two  steps 
more  and  he  would  have  passed,  when,  as  ill-luck  would 
have  it,  the  gleam  on  the  scales  of  the  dead  fish  caught 
his  eye,  and  he  made  a  dead  point  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree.  He  picked  up  the  fish  one  by  one ;  his  eye  and 
touch  told  him  that  they  had  been  alive  and  feeding 
within  the  hour.  Tom  crouched  lower  along  the 
branch,  and  heard  the  keeper  beating  the  clump.  "  If 
I  could  only  get  the  rod  hidden,"  thought  he,  and  be- 
gan gently  shifting  it  to  get  it  alongside  him  ;  willow- 
trees  don't  throw  out  straight  hickory  shoots  twelve 
feet  along,  with  no  leaves,  worse  luck.  Alas!  the 
keeper  catches  the  rustle,  and  then  a  sight  of  the  rod, 
and  then  of  Tom's  hand  and  arm. 

"Oh,  be  up  ther'  be  'ee?"  says  he,  running  under 
the  tree.  "  Now  you  come  down  this  minute." 

"  Tree'd  at  last,"  thinks  Tom,  making  no  answer, 
and  keeping  as  close  as  possible,  but  working  away  at 
the  rod,  which  he  takes  to  pieces :  "  I'm  in  for  it,  un- 
less I  can  starve  him  out."  And  then  he  begins  to 
meditate  getting  along  the  branch  for  a  plunge  and 
scramble  to  the  other  side ;  but  the  small  branches  are 
so  thick,  and  the  opposite  bank  so  difficult,  that  the 
keeper  will  have  lots  of  time  to  get  round  by  the  ford 
before  he  can  get  out.  so  he  gives  that  up.  And  now 
he  hears  the  keeper  beginning  to  scramble  up  the 
trunk.  That  will  never  do ;  so  he  scrambles  himself 
back  to  where  his  branch  joins  the  trunk,  and  stands 
with  lifted  rod. 


1&4  TOM   BROWN  S  SCllOOL  DAYS. 

"  Hullo,  Velveteens,  mind  your  fingers  if  you  come 
any  higher." 

The  keeper  stops  and  looks  up,  and  then  with  a  grin 
says,  "  Oh,  be  you,  be  it,  young  ineaster  ?  Well,  here's 
luck.  Now  I  tells  'ee  to  come  down  at  once,  and  't'll 
be  best  for  'ee." 

"  Thank'ee,  Velveteens,  I'm  very  comfortable,"  said 
Tom,  shortening  the  rod  in  his  hand,  and  preparing  fpr 
battle. 

"  Werry  well,  please  yourself,"  sa}rs  the  keeper,  de- 
scending however  to  the  ground  again,  and  taking  his 
seat  on  the  bank ;  "  I  bean't  in  no  hurry,  so  you  med 
take  your  time.  I'll  larn  'ee  to  gee  honest  folk  names 
afore  I've  done  with  'ee." 

"  My  luck  as  usual,"  thinks  Tom ;  "  what  a  fool  I 
was  to  give  him  a  black.  If  I'd  called  him  'keeper,' 
now  I  might  get  off.  The  return  match  is  all  his 
way." 

The  keeper  was  quietly  proceeded  to  take  out  his  pipe 
fill,  and  light  it,  keeping  an  eye  on  Tom,  who  now  sat 
disconsolately  across  the  branch,  looking  at  keeper— 
a  pitiful  sight  for  men  and  fishes.  The  more  he  thought 
of  it  the  less  he  liked  it.  "  It  must  be  getting  near 
second  calling-over,"  thinks  he.  Keeper  smokes  on 
stolidly.  "  If  he  takes  me  up,  I  shall  be  flogged  safe 
enough.  I  can't  sit  here  all  night.  Wonder  if  he'll 
rise  at  silver. 

"  I  say,  keeper,"  said  he  meekly,  "  let  me  go  for  two 
bob  ? " 

"Not  for  twenty  neither,"  grunts  his  persecutor. 

And  so  they  sat  on  till  long  past  second  calling- 
over,  and  the  sun  came  slanting  in  through  the 
willow-branches,  and  telling  of  locking-up  near  at 
hand. 


TOM  DISCOVERED  BY  VELVETEENS. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  195 

"  I'm  coming  down,  keeper,"  said  Tom  at  last  with 
a  sigh,  fairly  tired  out.  "  Now  what  are  you  going 
to  do?" 

"  "Walk  'ee  up  to  school,  and  give  'ee  over  to  the 
doctor ;  them's  my  orders,"  says  Velveteens,  knocking 
the  ashes  out  of  his  fourth  pipe,  and  standing  up  and 
shaking  himself. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  hands  off,  you  know. 
I'll  go  with  you  quietly,  so  no  collaring  or  that  sort  of 
thing." 

Keeper  looked  at  him  a  minute--"  Werry  good," 
said  he  at  last ;  and  so  Tom  descended,  and  wended  his 
way  drearily  by  the  side  of  the  keeper  up  to  the  school- 
house,  where  they  arrived  just  at  locking-up.  As  they 
passed  the  school-gates,  the  Tad  pole  and  several  others 
who  were  standing  there  caught  the  state  of  things, 
and  rushed  out  crying  "Rescue!"  but  Tom  shook  his 
head,  so  they  only  followed  to  the  doctor's  gate,  and 
went  back  sorely  puzzled. 

How  changed  and  stern  the  doctor  seemed  from  the 
last  time  that  Tom  was  up  there,  as  the  keeper  told  the 
story,  not  omitting  to  state  how  Tom  had  called  him 
blackguard  names.  "Indeed,  sir,"  broke  in  the  culprit, 
"  it  was  only  Velveteens."  The  doctor  only  asked  one 
question. 

"  You  know  the  rule  about  the  banks,  Brown  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  wait  for  me  to-morrow,  after  first  lesson." 

"  I  thought  so,"  muttered  Tom. 

"  And  about  the  rod  sir  ? "  went  on  the  keeper ; 
"  Master's  told  we  as  we  might  have  all  the  rods " 

"  Oh,  please,  sir,"  broke  in  Tom,  "  the  rod  isn't 
mine."  The  doctor  looked  puzzled,  but  the  keeper, 
>yho  was  a  good-heartetl  fellow,  and  melted  at  Tom's 


196  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

evident  distress,  gave  up  his  claim.  Tom  was  flogged 
next  morning,  and  a  few  days  afterward  met  Vel- 
veteens, and  presented  him  with  half-a-crown  for  giving 
up  the  rod  claim,  and  they  became  sworn  friends;  and 
I  regret  to  say  that  Tom  had  many  more  fish  from 
under  the  willow  that  may -fly  season,  and  was  never 
caught  again  by  Velveteens. 

It  wasn't  three  weeks  before  Tom,  and  now  East  by 
his  side,  were  again  in  the  awful  presence.  This  time, 
however,  the  doctor  was  not  so  terrible.  A  few  days 
before,  they  had  been  fagged  at  fives  to  fetch  the  balls 
that  went  off  the  court.  While  standing  watching  the 
game,  they  saw  five  or  six  nearly  new  balls  hit  on  the 
top  of  the  school.  "I  say,  Tom,"  said  East,  when  they 
were  dismissed,  "couldn't  we  get  those  balls  some- 
how?" 

"  Let's  try,  anyhow." 

So  they  reconnoitered  the  walls  carefully,  borrowed 
a  coal-hammer  from  old  Stumps,  bought  some  big  nails, 
and  after  one  or  two  attempts,  scaled  the  schools,  and 
possessed  themselves  of  huge  quantities  of  fives'  balls. 
The  place  pleased  them  so  much  that  they  spent  all 
their  spare  time  there,  scratching  and  cutting  their 
names  on  the  top  of  every  tower ;  and  at  last,  having 
exhausted  all  other  places,  finished  up  with  inscribing 
II.  EAST,  T.  BROWN,  on  the  minute-hand  of  the  great 
clock.  In  the  doing  of  which  they  held  the  minute- 
hand,  and  disturbed  the  clock's  economy.  So  next 
morning,  when  masters  and  boys  came  trooping  down 
to  prayers,  and  entered  the  quadrangle,  the  injured 
minute-hand  was  indicating  three  minutes  to  the  hour. 
They  all  pulled  up,  and  took  their  time.  When  the 
hour  struck,  doors  were  closed,  and  half  the  school 
late,  Thomas  being  sent  to  make  inquiry,  discovers 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

their  names  on  the  minute-hand,  and  reports  accord- 
ingly ;  and  they  are  sent  for,  a  knot  of  their  friends 
making  derisive  and  pantomimic  allusions  to  what 
their  fate  will  be,  as  they  walk  off. 

But  the  doctor,  after  hearing  their  story,  doesn't 
make  much  of  it,  and  only  gives  them  thirty  lines  of 
Homer  to  learn  by  heart,  and  a  lecture  on  the  likeli- 
hood of  such  exploits  ending  in  broken  bones. 

Alas !  almost  the  next  day  was  one  of  the  great  fairs 
in  the  town;  and  as  several  rows  and  other  disagree- 
able accidents  had  of  late  taken  place  on  these  occasions, 
the  doctor  gives  out,  after  prayers  in  the  morning,  that 
no  boy  is  to  go  down  into  the  town.  Wherefore,  East 
and  Tom,  for  no  earthly  pleasure  except  that  of  doing 
what  they  are  told  not  to  do,  start  away,  after  second 
lesson,  and  making  a  short  circuit  through  the  fields, 
strike  a  back  lane  which  leads  into  the  town,  go  down 
it,  and  run  plump  upon  one  of  the  masters  as  they  emerge 
into  the  High  street.  The  master  in  question,  though 
a  very  clever,  is  not  a  righteous  man :  he  has  already 
caught  several  of  his  own  pupils,  and  gives  them  lines 
to  learn,  while  he  sends  East  and  Tom,  who  are  not 
his  pupils,  up  to  the  doctor ;  who,  on  learning  that 
they  had  bee 4  at  prayers  in  the  morning,  flogs  them 
soundly. 

The  flogging  did  them  no  good  at  the  time,  for  the 
injustice  of  their  captor  was  rankling  in  their  minds ; 
but  it  was  just  at  the  end  of  the  half,  and  on  the  next 
evening  but  one  Thomas  knocks  at  their  door,  and  says 
the  doctor  wants  to  see  them.  They  look  at  one 
another  in  silent  dismay.  What  can  it  be  now?  Which 
of  their  countless  wrong-doings  can  he  have  heard  of 
officially?  However,  it  is  no  use  delaying,  so  up  they 
go  to  the  study.  There  they  find  the  doctor,  not  an- 


198  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL   1)AYS. 

gry,  but  very  grave.  "  He  has  sent  for  them  to  speak 
very  seriously  before  they  go  home.  They  have  each 
been  flogged  several  times  in  the  half-year  for  direct 
and  willful  breaches  of  rules.  This  cannot  go  on. 
They  are  doing  no  good  to  themselves  or  others,  and 
now  they  are  getting  up  in  the  school,  and  have  in- 
fluence. They  seem  to  think  that  rules  are  made 
capriciously,  and  for  the  pleasure  of  the  masters  ;  but 
this  is  not  so,  they  are  made  for  the  good  of  the 
whole  school,  and  must  and  shall  be  obeyed.  Those 
who  thoughtlessly  or  willfully  break  them  will  not 
be  allowed  to  stay  at  the  school.  lie  should  be  sorry 
if  they  had  to  leave,  as  the  school  might  do  them 
both  much  good,  and  wishes  them  to  think  very 
seriously  in  the  holidays  over  what  he  has  said.  Good 
night." 

And  so  the  two  hurry  off  horribly  scared  :  the  idea 
of  having  to  leave  has  never  crossed  their  minds,  and 
is  quite  unbearable. 

As  they  go  out,  they  meet  at  the  door  old  Holmes, 
a  sturdy,  cheery  praposter  of  another  house,  who  goes 
in  to  the  doctor;  and  they  hear  his  genial,  hearty 
greeting  of  the  new-comer,  so  different  to  their  own 
reception,  as  the  door  closes,  and  return  to  their  study 
with  heavy  hearts,  and  tremendous  resolves  to  break 
no  more  rules. 

Five  minutes  afterward  the  master  of  their  form,  a 
late  arrival  and  a  model  young  master,  knocks  at  the 
doctor's  study-door.  "  Come  in  ? "  and  as  he  enters  the 
doctor  goes  on,  to  Holmes — "you  see  I  do  not  know 
anything  of  the  case  official^,  and  if  I  take  any  notice 
of  it  at  all,  I  must  publicty  expel  the  boy.  1  don't 
wish  to  do  that,  for  I  think  there  is  some  good  in  him. 
There's  nothing  for  it  but  a  good  sound  thrashing." 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  199 

He  paused  to  shake  hands  with  the  master,  which 
Holmes  does  also,  and  then  prepares  to  leave. 

"  I  understand.     Good-night,  sir." 

"  Good-night,  Holmes.  And  remember,"  added  the 
doctor,  emphasizing  the  words,  "  a  good  sound  thrash- 
ing before  the  whole  house." 

The  door  closed  on  Holmes ;  and  the  doctor,  in  an- 
swer to  the  puzzled  look  of  his  lieutenant,  explained 
shortly.  "  A  gross  case  of  bullying.  Wharton,  the 
head  of  the  house,  is  a  very  good  fellow,  but  slight  and 
weak,  and  severe  physical  pain  is  the  only  way  to  deal 
with  such  a  case ;  so  I  have  asked  Holmes  to  take  it 
up.  He  is  very  careful  and  trustworthy,  and  has 
plenty  of  strength.  I  wish  all  the  sixth  had  as  much. 
We  must  have  it  here,  if  we  are  to  keep  order  at  all." 

Now  I  don't  want  any  wiseacres  to  read  this  book  ; 
but  if  they  should,  of  course  they  will  prick  up  their 
long  ears,  and  howl,  or  rather  bray,  at  the  above  story. 
Very  good,  I  don't  object ;  but  what  I  have  to  add  for 
you  boys  is  this :  that  Holmes  called  a  levy  of  his  house 
after  breakfast  next  morning,  made  them  a  speech  on 
the  case  of  bullying  in  question,  and  then  gave  the 
bully  a  "good  sound  thrashing;"  and  that  years  after- 
ward, that  boy  sought  out  Holmes,  and  thanked  him, 
saying  it  had  been  the  kindest  act  which  had  ever  been 
done  upon  him,  and  the  turning-point  in  his  character; 
and  a  very  good  fellow  he  became,  and  a  credit  to  his 
school. 

After  some  other  talk  between  them,  the  doctor  said, 
"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  two  boys  in  your  form, 
East  and  Brown  :  I  have  just  been  speaking  to  them. 
What  do  you  think  of  them  ? " 

"  Well,  they  are  not  hard  workers,  and  very  thought- 
less and  full  of  spirits — but  I  can't  help  liking  them. 
I  think  they  are  sound  good  fellows  at  the  bottom," 


200  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"I'm  glad  of  it.  I  think  so  too.  But  they  make 
me  very  uneasy.  They  are  taking  the  lead  a  good  deal 
among  the  fags  in  my  house,  for  they  are  very  active, 
bold  fellows.  I  should  be  sorry  to  lose  them,  but  I 
shan't  let  them  stay  if  I  don't  see  them  gaining  charac- 
ter and  manliness.  In  another  year  they  may  do  great 
harm  to  all  the  younger  boys." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  you  won't  send  them  away,"  pleaded 
their  master. 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it.  But  now  I  never  feel  sure 
after  any  half-holiday,  that  I  shan't  have  to  flog  one 
of  them  next  morning,  for  some  foolish,  thoughtless 
scrape.  I  quite  dread  seeing  either  of  them." 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  minute.  Presently  the 
doctor  began  again : 

"  They  don't  feel  that  they  have  any  duty  or  work 
to  do  in  the  school,  and  how  is  one  to  make  them  feel 
it?" 

"  I  think  if  either  of  them  had  some  little  boy  to 
take  care  of,  it  would  steady  them.  Brown  is  the  most 
reckless  of  the  two,  I  should  say ;  East  wouldn't  get 
into  so  many  scrapes  without  him." 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  with  something  like  a  sigh, 
"  I'll  think  of  it."  And  they  went  on  to  talk  of  other 
subjects. 


PART  II. 


"  I  [hold]  it  truth,  with  him  who  sings 
To  one  clear  harp  in  divers  fonee, 
That  men  may  rise  on  stepping-stones 
Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things." 

TENNYSON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

HOW   THE   TIDE   TURNED. 

"  Once  to  every  man  and  nation,  comes  the  moment  to  decide, 
In  the  strife  of  Truth  with  Falsehood,  for  the  good  or  evil  side: 
****** 

Then  it  is  the  brave  man  chooses,  while  the  coward  stands  aside, 
Doubting  in  his  abject  spirit,  till  his  Ix>rd  is  crucified." 

LOWELL. 

THE  turning-point  in  our  hero's  school  career  had 
now  come,  and  the  manner  of  it  was  as  follows.  On 
the  evening  of  the  first  day  of  the  next  half-year,  Tom, 
East,  and  another  school-house  boy,  who  had  just  been 
dropped  at  the  Spread  Eagle  by  the  old  Regulator, 
rushed  into  the  matron's  room  in  high  spirits,  such  as 
as  all  real  boys  are  in  when  they  first  get  back,  how- 
ever fond  they  may  be  of  home. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Wixie,"  shouted  one,  seizing  on  the 
methodical,  active  little  dark-eyed  woman  who  was 
busy  stowing  away  the  linen  of  the  boys  who  had 
already  arrived  into  their  several  pigeon-holes,  "  here 
we  are  again,  you  see,  as  jolly  as  ever.  Let  us  help 
you  put  the  things  away." 

"  And,  Mary,"  cried  another  (she  was  called  indiff- 
erently by  either  name),  "  who's  come  back  ?  Has  the 
doctor  made  old  Jones  leave  {  How  many  new  boys 
are  there  ? " 

"  Am  I  and  East  to  have  Gray's  study  ?  You  know 
you  promised  to  get  it  for  us  if  you  could,"  shouted 
Tom. 


204  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  And  am  I  to  sleep  in  Number  4  ?  "    roared  East. 

"  How's  old  Sam,  and  Bogle,  and  Sally  ?  " 

"  Bless  the  boys !  "  cries  Mary,  at  last  getting  in  a 
word,  "  why,  you'll  shake  me  to  death.  There  now, 
do  go  away  up  to  the  housekeeper's  room  and  get 
your  suppers ;  you  know  I  haven't  time  to  talk — you'll 
find  plenty  more  in  the  house.  Now,  Master  East,  do 
let  those  things  alone — you're  mixing  up  three  new 
boys'  things."  And  she  rushed  at  East,  who  escaped 
round  the  open  trunks  holding  up  a  prize. 

"  Hullo,  look  here,  Tommy,"  shouted  he,  "  here's 
fun  !  "  and  he  brandished  above  his  head  some  pretty 
little  night-caps,  beautifully  made  and  marked,  the 
work  of  loving  fingers  in  some  distant  country  home. 
The  kind  mother  and  sisters,  who  sewed  that  delicate 
stitching  with  aching  hearts,  little  thought  of  the 
trouble  they  might  be  bringing  on  the  young  head  for 
which  they  were  meant.  The  little  matron  was 
wiser,  and  snatched  the  caps  from  East  before  he 
could  look  at  the  name  on  them. 

"  Now,  Master  East,  I  shall  be  very  angry  if  you 
don't  go,"  said  she ;  "  there's  some  capital  cold  beef 
and  pickles  up-stairs,  and  I  won't  have  you  old  boys  in 
my  room  first  night." 

"Hurrah  for  the  pickles!  Come  along,  Tommy; 
come  along,  Smith.  We  shall  find  out  who  the  young 
count  is,  I'll  be  bound :  I  hope  he'll  sleep  in  my  room. 
Mary's  always  vicious  first  week." 

As  the  boys  turned  to  leave  the  room,  the  matron 
touched  Tom's  arm,  and  said,  "Master  Brown,  please 
stop  a  minute,  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

"  Very  well,  Mary.  I'll  come  in  a  minute :  East, 
don't  finish  the  pickles. 

"Oh,  Master  Brown,"  went  on  the  little  matron, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  205 

when  the  rest  had  gone,  "you're  to  have  Gray's  study 
Mrs.  Arnold  says.  And  she  wants  you  to  take  in  this 
young  gentleman.  He's  a  new  boy,  and  thirteen  years 
old,  though  he  don't  look  it.  He's  very  delicate,  and 
has  never  been  from  home  before.  And  I  told  Mrs. 
Arnold  I  thought  you'd  be  kind  to  him,  and  see  that 
they  don't  bully  him  at  first.  He's  put  into  your  form 
and  I've  given  him  the  bed  next  to  yours  in  number 
4 ;  so  East  can't  sleep  there  this  half." 

Tom  was  rather  put  about  by  this  speech.  He  had 
got  the  double  study  which  he  coveted,  but  here  were 
conditions  attached  which  greatly  moderated  his  joy. 
He  looked  across  the  room,  and  in  the  far  corner  of 
the  sofa  was  aware  of  a  slight,  pale  boy,  with  large 
blue  eyes  and  light  fair  hair,  who  seemed  ready  to 
shrink  through  the  floor.  He  saw  at  a  glance  that  the 
little  stranger  was  just  the  boy  whose  first  half-year 
at  a  public  school  would  be  misery  to  himself  if  he 
were  left  alone  or  constant  anxiety  to  anyone  who 
meant  to  see  him  through  his  troubles.  Tom  was  too 
honest  to  take  in  the  youngster  and  then  let  him  shift 
for  himself ;  and  if  he  took  him  as  his  chum  instead 
of  East,  where  were  all  his  pet  plans  of  having  a  bot- 
tled-beer  cellar  under  his  window,  and  making  night- 
lines  and  slings,  and  plotting  expeditions  to  Browns- 
over  Mills  and  Caldecott's  Spinney  ?  East  and  he  had 
made  up  their  minds  to  get  this  study,  and  then  every 
night  from  locking-up  till  ten  they  would  be  together 
to  talk  about  fishing,  drink  bottled-beer,  read  Marry  at's 
novels,  and  sort  birds'  eggs.  And  this  new  boy  would 
most  likely  never  go  out  of  the  close,  and  would  be 
afraid  of  wet  feet,  and  always  getting  laughed  at  and 
called  Molly,  or  Jenny,  or  some  derogatory  feminine 
nickname. 


206  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

The  matron  watched  him  for  a  moment,  and  saw 
what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  so,  like  a  wise  nego- 
tiator, threw  in  an  appeal  to  his  warm  heart.  "  Poor 
little  fellow,"  said  she  in  almost  a  whisper,  "  his  father's 
dead,  and  he's  got  no  brothers.  And  his  mamma,  such 
a  kind  sweet  lady,  almost  broke  her  heart  at  leaving 
him  this  morning  ;  and  she  said  one  of  his  sisters  was 
like  to  die  of  decline,  and  so " 

"  Well,  well,"  burst  in  Tom,  with  something  like 
a  sigh  at  the  effort,  "  I  suppose  I  must  give  up  East. 
Come  along  young  un.  What's  your  name  ?  We'll  go 
and  have  some  supper,  and  then  I'll  show  you  our 
study." 

"His  name's  George  Arthur,"  said  the  matron, 
walking  up  to  him  with  Tom,  who  grasped  his  little 
delicate  hand  as  the  proper  preliminary  to  making  a 
chum  of  him,  and  felt  as  if  he  could  have  blown  him 
away.  "I've  had  his  books  and  things  put  into  the 
study,  which  his  mamma  has  had  newly  papered,  and 
the  sofa  covered,  and  new  green  baize  curtains  over  the 
door"  (the  diplomatic  matron  threw  this  in,  to  show 
that  the  new  boy  was  contributing  largely  to  the 
partnership  comforts).  "  And  Mrs.  Arnold  told  me  to 
say,"  she  added,  "  that  she  should  like  you  both  to 
come  up  to  tea  with  her.  You  know  the  way,  Master 
Brown,  and  the  things  are  just  gone  up,  I  know." 

Here  was  an  announcement  for  Master  Tom!  He 
was  to  go  up  to  tea  the  first  night,  just  as  if  he  were  a 
sixth  or  fifth-form  boy,  and  of  importance  in  the  school 
world,  instead  of  the  most  reckless  young  scapegrace 
among  the  fags.  He  felt  himself  lifted  on  to  a  higher 
social  and  moral  platform  at  once.  Nevertheless,  he 
couldn't  give  up  without  a  sigh  the  idea  of  the  jolly 
supper  in  the  housekeeper's  room  with  East  and  the 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

rest,  and  a  rush  round  to  all  the  studies  of  his  friends 
afterward,  to  pour  out  the  deeds  and  wonders  of  the 
holidays,  to  plot  fifty  plans  for  the  coming  half-year, 
and  to  gather  news  of  who  had  left,  and  what  new 
boys  had  come,  who  had  got  who's  study,  and  where 
the  new  praepostors  slept.  However,  Tom  consoled 
himself  with  thinking  that  he  couldn't  have  done  all 
this  with  the  new  boy  at  his  heels,  and  so  marched  off 
along  the  passages  to  the  doctor's  private  house  with 
his  young  charge  in  tow,  in  monstrous  good  humor 
with  himself  and  all  the  world. 

It  is  needless,  and  would  be  impertinent,  to  tell  how 
the  two  young  boys  were  received  in  that  drawing- 
room.  The  lady  who  presided  there  is  still  living,  and 
has  carried  with  her  to  her  peaceful  home  in  the  North, 
the  respect  and  love  of  all  those  who  ever  felt  and 
shared  that  gentle  and  high-bred  hospitality.  Ay, 
many  is  the  brave  heart  now  doing  its  work  and  bear- 
ing its  load  in  country  curacies,  London  chambers,  un- 
der the  Indian  sun,  and  in  Australian  towns  and  clear- 
ings, which  looks  back  with  fond  and  grateful  memory 
to  that  school-house  drawing-room,  and  dates  much  of 
its  highest  and  best  training  to  the  lessons  learned 
there. 

Besides  Mrs.  Arnold  and  one  or  two  of  the  elder 
children,  there  were  one  of  the  younger  masters, 
young  Brooke — who  was  now  in  the  sixth,  and  has 
succeeded  to  his  brother's  position  and  influence — and 
another  sixth-form  boy  there,  talking  together  before 
the  fire.  The  master  and  young  Brooke,  now  a  great 
strapping  fellow  six  feet  high,  eighteen  years  old,  and 
powerful  as  a  coal-heaver,  nodded  kindly  to  Tom,  to 
his  intense  glory,  and  then  went  on  talking ;  the  other 
(lid  not  not  notice  them.  The  hostess,  after  a  few 


208  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

kind  words,  which  led  the  boys  at  once  and  insensibly 
to  feel  at  their  ease,  and  to  begin  talking  to  one  an- 
other, left  them  with  her  own  children  while  she  fin- 
ished a  letter.  The  young  ones  got  on  fast  and  well, 
Tom  holding  forth  about  a  prodigious  pony  he  had 
been  riding  out  hunting,  and  hearing  stories  of  the 
winter  glories  of  the  lakes,  when  tea  came  in,  and  im- 
mediately after,  the  doctor  himself. 

How  frank,  and  kind,  and  manly,  was  his  greeting 
to  the  party  by  the  fire!  It  did  Tom's  heart  good  to 
see  him  and  young  Brooke  shake  hands,  and  look  one 
another  in  the  face ;  and  he  didn't  fail  to  remark,  that 
Brooke  was  nearly  as  tall,  and  quite  as  broad  as  the 
doctor.  And  his  cup  was  full,  when  in  another 
moment  his  master  turned  to  him  with  another 
warm  shake  of  the  hand,  and,  seemingly  oblivious  of 
all  the  late  scrapes  which  he  had  been  getting  into, 
said,  "  Ah,  Brown,  you  here  !  I  hope  you  left  your 
father  and  all  well  at  home  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  quite  well." 

"And  this  is  the  little  fellow  who  is  to  share  your 
study.  Well,  he  doesn't  look  as  we  should  like  to  see 
him.  He  wants  some  Rugby  air,  and  cricket.  And 
you  must  take  him  some  good  long  walks,  to  Bilton 
Grange  and  Caldecott's  Spinney,  and  show  him  what  a 
little  pretty  country  we  have  about  here." 

Tom  wondered  if  the  doctor  knew  that  his  visits  to 
Bilton  Grange  were  for  the  purpose  of  taking  rooks' 
nests  (a  proceeding  strongly  discountenanced  by  the 
owner  thereof),  and  those  to  Caldecott's  Spinney  were 
prompted  chiefly  by  the  conveniences  for  setting  night- 
lines.  What  didn't  the  doctor  know  ?  And  what  a 
noble  use  he  always  made  of  it!  He  almost  resolved 
to  abjure  rook-pies  and  night-lines  forever.  The  tea 


TOM  UROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  200 

went  merrily  off,  the  doctor  now  talking  of  holiday 
doings,  and  then  of  the  prospects  of  the  half-year,  what 
chance  there  was  for  the  Balliol  scholarship,  whether 
the  eleven  would  be  a  good  one.  Everybody  was  at 
his  ease,  and  everybody  felt  that  he,  young  as  he  might 
be,  was  of  some  use  in  the  little  school  world,  and  had 
a  work  to  do  there. 

Soon  after  tea  the  doctor  went  off  to  his  study,  and 
the  young  boys  a  few  minutes  afterward  took  their 
leave,  and  went  out  of  the  private  door  which  led  from 
the  doctor's  house  into  the  middle  passage. 

At  the  fire,  at  the  further  end  of  the  passage,  was  a 
crowd  of  boys  in  loud  talk  and  laughter.  There  was 
a  sudden  pause  when  the  door  opened,  and  then  a  great 
shout  of  greeting,  as  Tom  was  recognized  marching 
down  the  passage. 

"Hullo,  Brown,  where  do  you  come  from?" 

"  Oh,  I've  been  to  tea  with  the  doctor,"  says  Tom, 
with  great  dignity. 

"  My  eye !  "  cried  East.  "  Oh !  so  that's  why  Mary 
called  you  back,  and  you  didn't  come  to  supper.  You 
lost  something-— that  beef  and  pickles  was  no  end 
good." 

"  I  say,  young  fellow,"  cried  Hall,  detecting  Arthur, 
and  catching  him  by  the  collar,  "  what's  your  name  ? 
Where  do  you  come  from  ?  How  old  are  you ? " 

Tom  saw  Arthur  shrink  back,  and  looked  scared  as 
all  the  group  turned  to  him,  but  thought  it  best  to  let 
him  answer,  just  standing  by  his  side  to  support  in  case 
of  need. 

"  Arthur,  sir.     I  come  from  Devonshire." 

"  Don't  call  me  '  sir,'  you  young  muff.  How  old  are 
you?" 

"  Thirteen." 


210  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"Can  you  sing?" 

The  poor  boy  was  trembling  and  hesitating.  Tom 
struck  in — "  You  be  hanged,  Tadpole.  He'll  have  to 
sing,  whether  he  can  or  not,  Saturday  twelve  weeks, 
and  that's  long  enough  off  yet." 

"  Do  you  know  him  at  home,  Brown  ? " 

"No;  but  he's  my  chum  in  Gray's  old  study,  and 
it's  near  prayer  time,  and  I  haven't  had  a  look  at  it 
yet.  Come  along,  Arthur." 

Away  went  the  two,  Tom  longing  to  get  his  charge 
safe  under  cover,  where  he  might  advise  him  on  his 
deportment. 

"What  a  queer  chum  for  Tom  Brown,"  was  the 
comment  at  the  fire;  and  it  must  be  confessed  so 
thought  Tom  himself,  as  he  lighted  his  candle,  and 
surveyed  the  new  green-baize  curtains  and  the  carpet 
and  sofa  with  much  satisfaction. 

"  I  say,  Arthur,  what  a  brick  your  mother  is  to 
make  us  so  cozy.  But  look  here  now,  you  must  an- 
swer straight  up  when  the  fellows  speak  to  you,  and 
don't  be  afraid.  If  you're  afraid,  you'll  get  bullied. 
And  don't  you  say  you  can  sing;  and  don't  you  ever 
talk  about  home,  or  your  mother  and  sisters." 

Poor  little  Arthur  looked  ready  to  cry. 

"  But  please,"  said  he,  "  mayn't  I  talk  about — about 
home  to  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  like  it.  But  don't  talk  to  boys  you  don't 
know,  or  they'll  call  you  home  sick,  or  mamma's  dar- 
ling, or  some  such  stuff.  What  a  jolly  desk !  Is  that 
yours?  And  what  stunning  binding?  why,  your 
school-books  look  like  novels !  " 

And  Tom  was  soon  deep  in  Arthur's  goods  and  chat- 
tels, all  new  and  good  enough  for  a  fifth-form  boy, 
and  hardly  thought  of  his  friends  outside,  till  the 
prayer-bell  rung. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  211 

I  have  already  described  the  school-house  prayers ; 
they  were  the  same  on  the  first  night  as  on  the  other 
nights,  save  for  the  gaps  caused  by  the  absence  of 
those  boys  who  came  late,  and  the  line  of  new  boys 
who  stood  all  together  at  the  further  table — of  all 
sorts  and  sizes,  like  young  bears  with  all  their  troubles 
to  come,  as  Tom's  father  had  said  to  him  when  he  was 
in  the  same  position.  He  thought  of  it  as  he  looked 
at  the  line,  and  poor  little,  slight  Arthur  standing  with 
them,  and  as  he  was  leading  him  up-stairs  to  Number 
4,  directly  after  prayers,  and  showing  him  his  bed.  It 
was  a  huge,  high  airy  room,  with  two  large  windows 
looking  on  to  the  school  close.  There  were  twelve  beds  in 
the  room.  The  one  in  the  furthest  corner  by  the  fire- 
place, occupied  by  the  sixth-form  boy  who  was  respon- 
sible for  the  discipline  of  the  room,  and  the  rest  by 
boys  in  the  lower-fifth  and  other  junior  forms,  all  fags 
(for  the  fifth-form  boys,  as  has  been  said,  slept  in  rooms 
by  themselves).  Being  fags,  the  eldest  of  them  was 
not  more  than  about  sixteen  years  old,  and  were  all 
bound  to  be  up  and  in  bed  by  ten  ;  the  sixth-form  boys 
came  to  bed  from  ten  to  a  quarter-past  (at  which  time 
the  old  verger  came  round  to  put  the  candles  out),  ex- 
cept when  they  sat  up  to  read. 

Within  a  few  minutes,  therefore,  of  their  entry,  all 
the  other  boys  who  slept  in  Number  4,  had  come  up. 
The  little  fellows  went  quietly  to  their  own  beds,  and 
began  undressing  and  talking  to  each  other  in  whis- 
pers ;  while  the  elder,  among  whom  was  Tom,  sat 
chatting  about  on  one  another's  beds,  with  their  jackets 
and  waistcoats  off.  Poor  little  Arthur  was  over- 
whelmed with  the  novelty  of  his  position.  The  idea 
of  sleeping  in  the  room  with  strange  boys  had  clearly 
never  crossed  his  mind  before,  and  was  as  painful  as  it 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

was  strange  to  him.  He  could  hardly  bear  to  take  his 
jacket  off;  however,  presently,  with,  an  effort,  off  it 
came,  and  then  he  paused  and  looked  at  Tom,,  who 
was  sitting  at  the  bottom  of  his  bed  talking  and 
laughing. 

"  Please,  Brown,"  he  whispered,  "  may  I  wash  my 
face  and  hands  ? " 

"  Of  course,  if  you  like,"  said  Tom,  staring ;  "  that's 
your  washhand-stand,  under  the  window,  second  from 
your  bed.  You'll  have  to  go  down  for  more  water  in 
the  morning  if  you  use  it  all."  And  on  he  went  with 
his  talk,  while  Arthur  stole  timidly  from  between  the 
beds  out  to  his  washhand-stand,  and  began  his  ablu- 
tions, thereby  drawing  for  a  moment  on  himself  the 
attention  of  the  room. 

On  went  the  talk  and  laughter.  Arthur  finished 
his  washing  and  undressing,  and  put  on  his  night- 
gown. He  then  looked  round  more  nervously  than 
ever.  Two  or  three  of  the  little  boys  were  already  in 
bed,  sitting  up  with  their  chins  on  their  knees.  The 
light  burned  clear,  the  noise  went  on.  It  was  a  try- 
ing moment  for  the  poor  little  lonely  boy ;  however, 
this  time  he  didn't  ask  Tom  what  he  might  or  might 
not  do,  but  dropped  on  his  knees  by  his  bedside,  as  he 
had  done  every  day  from  his  childhood,  to  open  his 
heart  to  Him  who  heareth  the  cry  and  beareth  the 
sorrows  of  the  tender  child,  and  the  stiong  man  in 
agony. 

Tom  was  sitting  at  the  bottom  of  his  bed  unlacing 
his  boots,  so  that  his  back  was 'toward  Arthur,  and 
he  didn't  see  what  had  happened,  and  looked  up  in 
wonder  at  the  sudden  silence.  Then  two  or  three 
boys  laughed  and  sneered,  and  a  big  brutal  fellow, 
who  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  picked 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  213 

up  a  slipper,  and  shied  it  at  the  kneeling  boy,  calling 
him  a  sniveling  young  shaver.  Then  Tom  saw  the 
whole,  and  the  next  moment  the  boot  he  had  just 
pulled  off  flew  straight  at  the  head  of  the  bully,  who  had 
just  time  to  throw  up  his  arm  and  catch  it  on  his  elbow. 

"  Confound  you,  Brown,  what's  that  for  ? "  roared  he, 
stamping  with  pain. 

"Never  mind  what  I  mean,"  said  Tom,  stepping  on 
to  the  floor,  every  drop  of  blood  in  his  body  tingling  ; 
"  if  any  fellow  wants  the  other  boot,  he  knows  how  to 
get  it." 

What  would  have  been  the  result  is  doubtful,  for 
at  this  moment  the  sixth-form  boy  came  in,  and  not 
another  word  could  be  said.  Tom  and  the  rest  rushed 
into  bed  and  finished  their  unrobing  there,  and  the  old 
verger,  as  punctual  as  the  clock,  had  put  out  the  candle 
in  another  minute,  and  toddled  on  to  the  next  room, 
shutting  their  door  with  his  usual  "  Good  night 
genl'm'n." 

There  were  many  boys  in  the  room  by  whom  that 
little  scene  was  taken  to  heart  before  they  slept.  But 
sleep  seemed  to  have  deserted  the  pillow  of  poor  Tom. 
For  some  time  his  excitement,  and  the  flood  of  memo- 
ries which  chased  one  another  through  his  brain, 
kept  him  from  thinking  or  resolving.  His  head 
throbbed,  his  heart  leaped,  and  he  could  hardly  keep 
himself  from  springing  out  of  bed  and  rushing  about 
the  room.  Then  the  thought  of  his  own  mother 
came  across  him,  and  the  promise  he  had  made 
at  her  knee,  years  ago,  never  to  forget  to  kneel 
by  his  bedside,  and  give  himself  up  to  his  Father,  be- 
fore he  laid  his  head  on  the  pillow,  from  which  it 
might  never  rise;  and  he  lay  down  gently  and  cried  as  if 
his  heart  would  break.  He  was  only  fourteen  years  old. 


•?it  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS. 

It  was  no  light  act  of  courage  in  those  days  my 
dear  boys,  for  a  little  fellow  to  say  his  prayers  publicly 
even  at  Rugby.  A  few  years  later,  when  Arnold's 
manly  piety  had  begun  to  leaven  the  school,  the  tables 
turned;  before  he  died,  in  the  school-house  at  least, 
and  I  believe  in  the  other  houses,  the  rule  was  the 
other  way.  But  poor  Tom  had  come  to  school  in 
other  times.  The  first  few  nights  after  he  came  he 
did  not  kneel  down  because  of  the  noise,  but  sat  up  in 
bed  till  the  candle  was  out,  and  then  stole  out  and 
said  his  prayers  in  fear,  lest  some  one  should  find  him 
out.  So  did  many  another  poor  little  fellow.  Then 
he  began  to  think  that  he  might  just  as  well  say  his 
prayers  in  bed,  and  then  that  it  didn't  matter  whether 
he  was  kneeling,  or  sitting,  or  lying  down.  And  so 
it  had  come  to  pass  with  Tom  as  with  all  who  will 
not  confess  their  Lord  before  men :  and  for  the  last 
year  he  had  probably  not  said  his  prayers  in  earnest  a 
dozen  times. 

Poor  Tom!  the  first  and  bitterest  feeling  which 
was  like  to  break  his  heart  was  the  sense  of  his  own 
cowardice.  The  vice  of  all  others  which  he  loathed 
was  brought  in  and  burned  in  on  his  own  soul.  He  had 
lied  to  his  mother,  to  his  conscience,  to  his  God.  How 
could  he  bear  it  ?  And  then  the  poor  little  weak  boy, 
whom  he  had  pitied  and  almost  scorned  for  his  weak- 
ness, had  done  that  which  he,  braggart  as  he  was,  dared 
not  do.  The  first  dawn  of  comfort  came  to  him  in 
swearing  to  himself  that  he  would  stand  by  that  boy 
through  thick  and  thin,  and  cheer  him,  and  help  him, 
and  bear  his  burdens,  for  the  good  deed  done  that  night. 
Then  he  resolved  to  write  home  next  day  and  tell  his 
mother  all,  and  what  a  coward  her  son  had  been.  And 
then  peace  came  to  him  as  he  resolved,  lastly,  to  bear 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  215 

his  testimony  next  morning.  The  morning  would  be 
harder  than  the  night  to  begin  with,  but  he  felt  that 
he  could  not  afford  to  let  one  chance  slip.  Several 
times  he  faltered,  for  the  devil  showed  him,  first,  all 
his  old  friends  calling  him  "Saint"  and  "Square-toes," 
and  a  dozen  hard  names,  and  whispered  to  him  that 
his  motives  would  be  misunderstood,  and  he  would  only 
be  left  alone  with  the  new  boy ;  whereas  it  was  his 
duty  to  keep  all  means  of  influence,  that  he  might  do 
good  to  the  largest  number.  And  then  came  the  more 
subtle  temptation,  "  Shall  I  not  be  showing  myself 
braver  than  others  by  doing  this?  Have  I  any  right 
to  begin  it  now  ?  Ought  I  not  rather  to  pray  in  my 
own  study,  letting  other  boys  know  that  I  do  so,  and 
trying  to  lead  them  to  it,  while  in  public  at  least  I 
should  go  on  as  I  have  done  ? "  However,  his  good 
angel  was  too  strong  that  night,  and  he  turned  on  his 
side  and  slept,  tired  of  trying  to  reason,  but  resolved 
to  follow  the  impulse  which  had  been  so  strong,  and  in 
which  he  had  found  peace. 

Next  morning  he  was  up  and  washed  and  dressed,  all 
but  his  jacket  and  waistcoat,  just  as  the  ten  minutes' 
bell  began  to  ring,  and  then  in  the  face  of  the  whole 
room  knelt  down  to  pray.  Not  five  words  could  he 
say — the  bell  mocked  him ;  he  was  listening  for  every 
whisper  in  the  room — what  were  they  all  thinking  of 
him  ?  He  was  ashamed  to  go  on  kneeling,  ashamed  to 
rise  from  his  knees.  At  last,  as  it  were  from  his  inmost 
heart,  a  still  small  voice  seemed  to  breathe  forth  the 
words  of  the  publican,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sin- 
ner ! "  He  repeated  them  over  and  over,  clinging  to 
them  as  for  his  life,  and  rose  from  his  knees  comforted 
and  humbled,  and  ready  to  face  the  whole  world.  It 
was  not  needed  :  two  other  boys  besides  Arthur  hud 


216  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

already  followed  his  example,  and  he  went  down  to  the 
great  school  with  a  glimmering  of  another  lesson  in  his 
heart — the  lesson  that  he  who  has  conquered  his  own 
coward  spirit  has  conquered  the  whole  outward  world  ; 
and  that  other  one  which  the  old  prophet  learned  in  the 
cave  in  "Mount  Horeb,  when  he  hid  his  face,  and  the 
still  small  voice  asked,  "  What  doest  thou  here,  Elijah  ? " 
that  however  we  may  fancy  ourselves  alone  on  the  side 
of  good,  the  King  and  Lord  of  men  is  nowhere  without 
His  witnesses ;  for  in  every  society,  however  seemingly 
corrupt  and  godless,  there  are  those  who  have  not 
bowed  the  knee  to  Baal. 

He  found  too  how  greatly  he  had  exaggerated  the 
effect  to  be  produced  by  his  act.  For  a  few  nights 
there  was  a  sneer  or  a  laugh  when  he  knelt  down,  but 
this  passed  off  soon  and  one  by  one  all  the  other  boys 
but  three  or  four  followed  the  lead.  I  fear  that  this 
was  in  some  measure  owing  to  the  fact,  that  Tom 
could  probably  have  thrashed  any  boy  in  the  room  ex- 
cept the  praepostor  ;  at  any  rate,  every  boy  knew  that 
he  would  try  upon  very  slight  provocation,  and 
didn't  choose  to  run  the  risk  of  a  hard  fight  because 
Tom  Brown  had  taken  a  fancy  to  say  his  prayers. 
Some  of  the  small  boys  of  Number  4  communicated 
the  new  state  of  things  to  their  chums,  and  in  several 
other  rooms  the  poor  little  fellow  tried  it  on ;  in  one 
instance  or  so  where  the  praepostor  heard  of  it  and  in- 
terfered very  decidedly,  with  partial  success :  but  in 
the  rest,  after  a  short  struggle,  the  confessors  were 
bullied  or  laughed  down,  and  the  old  state  of  things 
went  on  for  some  time  longer.  Before  either  Tom 
Brown  or  Arthur  left  the  school-house,  there  was  no 
room  in  which  it  had  not  become  the  regular  custom. 
I  trust  it  is  so  still,  and  that  the  old  heathen  state  of 
things  has  gone  out  forever. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  217 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE   NEW   BOY. 

"And  Heaven's  rich  instincts  in  him  grew, 
As  effortless  as  woodland  nooks 
Send  violets  up  and  paint  them  blue." — LOWELL. 

I  DO  not  mean  to  recount  all  the  little  troubles  and 
annoyances  which  thronged  upon  Tom  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this  half-year,  in  his  new  character  of  bear- 
leader to  a  gentle  little  boy  straight  from  home.  He 
seemed  to  himself  to  have  become  a  new  boy  again, 
without  any  of  the  long-suffering  and  meekness  indis- 
pensable for  supporting  that  character  with  moderate 
success.  From  morning  till  night  he  had  the  feeling 
of  responsibility  on  his  mind ;  and  even  if  he  left 
Arthur  in  their  study  or  in  the  close  for  an  hour,  was 
never  at  ease  till  he  had  him  in  sight  again.  He 
waited  for  him  at  the  doors  of  the  school  after  every 
lesson  and  every  calling-over  ;  watched  that  no  tricks 
were  played  him  and  none  but  the  regulation  ques- 
tions asked ;  kept  his  eye  on  his  plate  at  dinner  and 
breakfast,  to  see  that  no  unfair  depredations  were 
made  upon  his  viands ;  in  short,  as  East  remarked, 
cackled  after  him  like  a  hen  with  one  chick. 

Arthur  took  a  long  time  thawing,  too,  which  made 
it  all  the  harder  work;  .was  sadly  timid ;  scarcely  ever 
spoke  unless  Tom  spoke  to  him  first ;  and,  worst  of  all, 
would  agree  with  him  in  everything,  the  hardest  thing 
in  the  world  for  a  Brown  to  bear.  He  got  quite  angry 
sometimes,  as  they  sat  together  of  a  night  in  their 
study,  at  this  provoking  habit  of  agreement,  and  was 
on  the  point  of  breaking  out  a  dozen  times  with  a  lec- 
ture upon  the  propriety  of  a  fellow  having  a  will  of  his 
own  and  speaking  out ;  but  managed  to  restrain  him- 


218  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

self  by  the  thought  that  it  might  only  frighten  Ar- 
thur, and  the  remembrance  of  the  lesson  he  had 
learned  from  him  on  his  first  night  at  Number  4. 
Then  he  would  resolve  to  sit  still,  and  not  say  a  word 
till  Arthur  began ;  but  he  was  alwa}7s  beat  at  that 
game,  and  had  presently  to  begin  talking  in  despair, 
fearing  lest  Arthur  might  think  he  was  vexed  at  some- 
thing if  he  didn't,  and  dog-tired  of  sitting  tongue- 
tied. 

It  was  hard  work!  But  Tom  had  taken  it  up,  and 
meant  to  stick  to  it,  and  go  through  with  it,  so  as  to 
satisfy  himself ;  in  which  resolution  he  was  much  as- 
sisted by  the  chaffing  of  East  and  his  other  old  friends, 
who  began  to  call  him  "  dry-nurse,"  and  otherwise  to 
break  their  small  wit  on  him.  But  when  they  took 
other  ground,  as  they  did  every  now  and  then,  Tom  was 
sorely  puzzled. 

"Tell  you  what,  Tommy,"  East  would  say,  "you'll 
spoil  young  Hopeful  with  too  much  coddling.  Why 
can't  you  let  him  go  about  by  himself  and  find  his  own 
level  ?  He'll  never  be  worth  a  button,  if  you  go  on 
keeping  him  under  your  skirts." 

"Well,  but  he  ain't  fit  to  fight  his  own  way  yet ; 
I'm  trying  to  get  him  to  it  every  day — but  he's  very 
odd.  Poor  little  beggar !  I  can't  make  him  out  a  bit. 
He  ain't  a  bit  like  anything  I've  ever  seen  or  heard  of 
—he  seems  all  over  nerves ;  anything  you  say  seems 
to  hurt  him  like  a  cut  or  a  blow." 

"That  sort  of  boy's  no  use  here,"  said  East,  "he'll 
only  spoil.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do,  Tommy.  Go 
and  get  a  nice  large  band-box  made,  and  put  him  in 
with  a  plenty  of  cotton  wrool,  and  a  pap-bottle,  labeled 
'  With  care — this  side  up,'  and  send  him  back  to 
mamma," 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  I  think  I  shall  make  a  hand  of  him  though,"  said 
Tom,  smiling,  "say  what  you  will.  There's  something 
about  him,  every  now  and  then,  which  shows  me  he's 
got  pluck  somewhere  in  him.  That's  the  only  thing 
after  all,  that'll  wash,  ain't  it,  old  Scud  ?  But  how  to 
get  at  it  and  bring  it  out  ? " 

Tom  took  one  hand  out  of  his  breeches-pocket  and 
stuck  it  in  his  back  hair  for  a  scratch,  giving  his  hat 
a  tilt  over  his  nose,  his  one  methed  of  invoking  wis- 
dom. He  stared  at  the  ground  with  a  ludicrously  puz- 
zled look,  and  presently  looked  up  and  met  East's  eyes. 
That  young  gentleman  slapped  him  on  the  back,  and 
then  put  his  arm  round  his  shoulder,  as  they  strolled 
through  the  quadrangle  together.  "  Tom,"  said  he, 
"  blest  if  you  ain't  the  best  old  fellow  ever  was — I  do 
like  to  see  you  go  into  a  thing.  Hang  it,  I  wish  1 
could  take  things  as  you  do — but  I  never  can  get 
higher  than  a  joke.  Everything's  a  joke.  If  I  was 
going  to  be  flogged  the  next  minute,  I  should  be  in  a 
blue  funk,  but  I  couldn't  help  laughing  at  it  for  the 
life  of  me." 

"  Brown  and  East,  you  go  and  fag  for  Jones  on  the 
great  fives' -court." 

"Hullo,  though,  that's  past  a  joke,"  broke  out 
East,  springing  at  the  young  gentleman  who  ad- 
dressed them,  and  catching  him  by  the  collar.  "  Here, 
Tommy,  catch  hold  of  him  t'other  side  before  he  can 
holla." 

The  youth  was  seized,  and  dragged  struggling  out 
of  the  quadrangle  into  the  school-house  hall.  lie  was 
one  of  the  miserable  little  pretty  white-handed  curly- 
headed  bo37s,  petted  and  pampered  by  some  of  the  big 
fellows,  who  wrote  their  verses  for  them,  taught  them 
to  drink  and  use  bad  language,  and  did  all  they  could 


220  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

to  spoil  them  for  everything  *  in  this  world  and  the 
next.  One  of  the  avocations  in  which  these  young 
gentlemen  took  particular  delight,  was  in  going  about 
and  getting  fags  for  their  protectors,  when  those 
heroes  were  playing  any  game.  They  carried  about 
pencil  and  paper  with  them,  putting  down  the  names 
of  all  the  boys  they  sent,  always  sending  five  times  as 
many  as  were  wanted,  and  getting  all  those  thrashed 
who  didn't  go.  The  present  youth  belonged  to  a  house 
which  was  very  jealous  of  the  school-house,  and  always 
picked  out  school-house  fags  when  he  could  find  them. 
However,  this  time  he'd  got  the  wrong  sow  by  the  ear. 
His  captors  slammed  the  great  door  of  the  hall,  and 
East  put  his  back  against  it,  while  Tom  gave  the  pris- 
ener  a  shake-up,  took  away  his  list,  and  stood  him  up 
on  the  floor,  while  he  proceeded  leisurely  to  examine 
that  document. 

"  Let  me  out,  let  me  go ! "  screamed  the  boy  in  a 
furious  passion.  "  I'll  go  and  tell  Jones  this  minute, 

and  he'll  give  you  both  the thrashing  you  ever 

had." 

"  Pretty  little  dear,"  said  East,  patting  the  top  of 
his  hat ;  "  hark  how  he  swears,  Tom.  Nicely  brought 
up  young  man,  ain't  he  ?  I  don't  think." 

"Let  me  alone,—  -you,"  roared  the  boy,  foaming 
with  rage,  and  kicking  at  East,  who  quietly  tripped 
him  up,  and  deposited  him  on  the  floor  in  a  place  of 
safety. 

"  Gently,  young  fellow,"  said  he ;  "'tain't  improving 

*  A  kind  and  wise  critic,  an  old  Rugbcean,  notes  here  in  tLe 
margin:  The  "small  friend  system  w&s  not  so  utterly  bad  from 
1841-1847."  Before  that,  too,  there  were  many  noble  friendships 
between  big  and  little  boys,  but  I  can't  strike  out  the  passage:  many 
boys  will  know  why  it  is  left  in. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  221 

for  little  \vhi ppersnappers  like  you  to  be  indulging  in 
blasphemy  ;  so  you  stop  that,  or  you'll  get  something 
you  won't  like." 

"  I'll  have  you  both  licked  when  I  get  out,  that  I 
will,"  rejoined  the  boy,  beginning  to  snivel. 

"  Two  can  play  at  that  game,  mind  you,"  said  Tom 
who  had  finished  his  examination  of  the  list.  "  Now 
you  just  listen  here.  We've  just  come  across  the  fives'- 
court,  and  Jones  has  four  fags  there  already,  two  more 
than  he  wants.  If  he'd  wanted  us  to  change,  he'd 
have  stopped  us  himself.  And  here,  you  little  black- 
guard, you've  got  seven  names  down  on  your  list 
beside  ours,  and  live  of  them  school-house."  Tom 
walked  up  to  him  and  jerked  him  on  to  his  legs ; 
he  was  by  this  time  whining  like  a  whipped 
puppy. 

"Now  just  listen  to  me.  "We  ain't  going  to  fag  for 
Jones.  If  you  tell  him  you've  sent  us,  we'll  each  of  us 
give  you  such  a  thrashing  as  you'll  remember."  And 
Tom  tore  up  the  list  and  threw  the  pieces  into  the 
fire. 

"And  mind  you  too,"  said  East,  "don't  let  me  catch 
you  again  sneaking  about  the  school-house,  and  picking 
up  our  fags.  You  haven't  got  the  sort  of  hide  to  take 
a  sound  licking  kindly  ;  "  and  he  opened  the  door  and 
sent  the  young  gentleman  flying  into  the  quadrangle, 
with  a  parting  kick. 

"Nice  boy,  Tommy,"  said  East,  shoving  his  hands 
in  his  pockets  and  strolling  to  the  fire. 

"  Worst  sort  we  breed,"  responded  Tom,  following 
his  example.  "  Thank  goodness,  no  big  fellow  ever 
took  to  petting  me." 

"  You'd  never  have  been  like  that,"  said  East.  "  I 
should  like  to  have  put  him  in  a  museum—  Christian. 


222  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

young  gentleman,  nineteenth  century,  highly  educated. 
Stir  him  up  with  a  long  pole,  Jack, and  hear  him  swear 
like  a  drunken  sailor !  he'd  make  a  respectable  public 
open  its  eyes,  I  think." 

"  Think  he'll  tell  Jones  ?"  said  Tom. 

"  No,"  said  East.     "  Don't  care  if  he  does." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Tom.  And  they  went  back  to  talk 
about  Arthur. 

The  young  gentleman  had  brains  enough  not  to  tell 
Jones,  reasoning  that  East  and  Brown,  who  were  noted 
as  some  of  the  toughest  fags  in  the  school,  wouldn't 
care  three  straws  for  any  licking  Jones  might  give 
them,  and  would  be  likely  to  keep  their  words  as  to 
passing  it  on  with  interest. 

After  the  above  conversation, East  came  a  good  deal 
to  their  study,  and  took  notice  of  Arthur ;  and  soon 
allowed  to  Tom  that  he  was  a  thorough  little  gentle- 
man, and  would  get  over  his  shyness  all  in  good  time ; 
which  much  comforted  our  hero.  lie  felt  every  day, 
too,  the  value  of  having  an  object  in  his  life, something 
that  drew  him  out  of  himself;  and,  it  being  the  dull 
time  of  the  year,  and  no  games  going  about  which  he 
much  cared,  was  happier  than  he  had  ever  yet  been  at 
school,  which  was  saying  a  great  deal. 

The  time  which  Tom  allowed  himself  away  from  his 
charge,  was  from  locking-up  till  supper-time.  During 
this  hour  or  hour-and-half  he  used  to  take  his  fling, 
going  round  to  the  studies  of  all  his  acquaintance, 
sparring  or  gossiping  in  the  hall,  now  jumping  the  old 
iron  bound  tables,  or  carving  a  bit  of  his  name  on  them, 
then  joining  in  some  chorus  of  merry  voices;  in  fact, 
blowing  off  his  steam,  as  we  should  now  call  it. 

This  process  was  so  congenial  to  his  temper,  and 
Arthur  showed  himself  so  pleased  at  the  arrangement, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  22.1 

that  it  was  several  weeks  before  Tom  was  ever  in  their 
study  before  supper.  One  evening,  however,  he  rushed 
in  to  look  for  an  old  chisel,  or  some  corks,  or  other 
articles  essential  to  his  pursuit  for  the  time  being,  and 
while  rummaging  about  in  the  cupboards,  looked  up 
for  a  moment,  and  was  caught  at  once  by  the  figure  of 
poor  little  Arthur.  The  boy  was  sitting  with  his 
elbows  on  the  table,  and  his  head  leaning  on  his  hands, 
and  before  him  an  open  book,  on  which  his  tears  were 
falling  fast.  Tom  shut  the  door  at  once,  and  sat  down 
on  the  sofa  by  Arthur,  putting  his  arm  round  his  neck. 

"Why,  young  un !  what's  the  matter?"  said  he, 
kindly ;  "  you  ain't  unhappy,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Brown,"  said  the  little  boy,  looking  up 
with  the  great  tears  in  his  eyes,  "  you  are  so  kind  to 
me,  I'm  very  happy." 

"  Why  don't  you  call  me  Tom  ?  lots  of  boys  do  that 
I  don't  like  half  so  much  as  you.  What  are  you  read- 
ing, then !  Hang  it,  you  must  come  about  with  me, 
and  not  mope  yourself,"  and  Tom  cast  down  his  eyes 
on  the  book,  and  saw  it  was  the  Bible.  He  was  silent 
for  a  minute,  and  thought  to  himself,  "  Lesson  Num- 
ber 2,  Tom  Brown  ; "  and  then  said  gently  : 

"I'm  very  glad  to  see  this,  Arthur,  and  ashamed 
that  I  don't  read  the  Bible  more  myself.  Do  you  read 
it  every  night  before  supper  while  I'm  out  ? " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  wish  you'd  wait  till  afterward,  and  then 
we'd  read  together.  But,  Arthur,  why  does  it  make 
you  cry  ? " 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  that  I'm  unhappy.  But  at  home,  while 
my  father  was  alive,  we  always  read  the  lessons  after 
tea ;  and  I  love  to  read  them  over  now,  and  try  to  re- 
member what  he  said  about  them.  I  can't  remember 


224  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

all,  and  I  think  I  scarcely  understand  a  great  deal  of 
what  I  do  remember.  But  it  all  comes  back  to  me  so 
fresh,  that  I  can't  help  crying  sometimes  to  think  I 
shall  never  read  them  again  with  him." 

Arthur  had  never  spoken  of  his  home  before,  and 
Tom  hadn't  encouraged  him  to  do  so,  as  his  blundering 
school-boy  reasoning  made  him  think  that  Arthur 
would  be  softened  and  less  manly  for  thinking  of  home. 
But  now  he  was  fairly  interested,  and  forgot  all  about 
chisels  and  bottled  beer;  while  with  very  little  en- 
couragement Arthur  launched  into  his  home  history, 
and  the  prayer-bell  put  them  both  out  sadly  when  it 
rang  to  call  them  to  the  hall. 

From  this  time  Arthur  constantly  spoke  of  his  home, 
and  above  all,  of  his  father,  who  had  been  dead  about 
a  year,  and  whose  memory  Tom  soon  got  to  love  and 
reverence  almost  as  much  as  his  own  son  did. 

Arthur's  father  had  been  the  clergyman  of  a  parish 
In  the  midland  counties,  which  had  risen  into  a  large 
town  during  the  war,  and  upon  which  the  hard  years 
which  followed  had  fallen  with  a  fearful  weight.  The 
trade  had  been  half  ruined  :  and  then  came  the  old  sad 
story,  of  masters  reducing  their  establishments,  men 
turned  off  and  wandering  about,  hungry  and  wan  in 
body  and  fierce  in  soul,  from  the  thought  of  wives  and 
children  starving  at  home,  and  the  last  sticks  of  furni- 
ture going  to  the  pawn  shop.  Children  taken  from 
school,  and  lounging  about  the  dirty  streets  and  courts, 
too  listless  almost  to  play,  and  squalid  in  rags  and 
misery.  And  then  the  fearful  struggle  between  the 
employers  and  men  ;  lowerings  of  wages,  strikes,  and 
the  long  course  of  oft-repeated  crime,  ending  every 
now  and  then  with  a  riot,  afire,  and  the  county  yeo- 
manry. There  is  no  need  here  to  dwell  upon  such 


TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  225 

tales ;  the  Englishman  into  whose  soul  they  have  not 
sunk  deep  is  not  worthy  the  name ;  you  English 
boys  for  whom  this  book  is  meant  (God  bless  your 
bright  faces  and  kind  hearts !)  will  learn  it  all  soon 
enough. 

Into  such  a  parish  and  state  of  society,  Arthur's 
father  had  been  thrown  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  a 
young  married  parson,  full  of  faith,  hope,  and  love. 
He  had  battled  with  it  like  a  man,  and  had  lots  of  fine 
Utopian  ideas  about  the  perfectibility  of  mankind,  glo- 
rious humanity  and  such  like,  knocked  out  of  his  head  ; 
and  a  real,  wholesome,  Christian  love  for  the  poor 
struggling,  sinning  men,  of  whom  he  felt  himself  one, 
and  with  and  for  whom  he  spent  fortune,  and  strength, 
and  life,  driven  into  his  heart.  He  had  battled  like  a 
man,  and  gotten  a  man's  reward.  No  silver  teapots  or 
salvers,  with  flowery  inscriptions,  setting  forth  his  vir- 
tues and  the  appreciation  of  a  genteel  parish ;  no  fat  liv- 
ing or  stall,  for  which  he  never  looked,  and  didn't 
care;  no  sighs  and  praises  of  comfortable  dowagers 
and  well  got-up  young  women,  who  worked  him  slip- 
pers, sugared  his  tea,  and  adored  him  as  a  "  devoted 
man  ;  "  but  a  manly  respect,  wrung  from  the  unwilling 
souls  of  men  who  fancied  his  order  their  natural 
enemies ;  the  fear  and  hatred  of  every  one  who  was 
false  or  unjust  in  the  district,  were  he  master  or  man  ; 
and  the  blessed  sight  of  women  and  children  daily 
becoming  more  human  and  more  homely,  a  comfort  to 
themselves  and  to  their  husbands  and  fathers. 

These  things,  of  course,  took  time,  and  had  to  be 
fought  for  with  toil  and  sweat  of  brain  and  heart,  and 
with  the  life-blood  poured  out.  All  that,  Arthur  had 
laid  his  account  to  give,  and  took  as  a  matter  of  course ; 
neither  pitying  himself,  or  looking  on  himself  as  a 


226  TOM  BROWN'S  scfioOL  DATS. 

martyr,  when  he  felt  the  wear  and  tear  making  him 
feel  old  before  his  time,  and  the  stifling  air  of  fever 
dens  telling  on  his  health.  His  wife  seconded  him  in 
everything.  She  had  been  rather  fond  of  society,  and 
much  admired  and  run  after  before  her  marriage ;  and 
the  London  world,  to  which  she  had  belonged,  pitied 
poor  Fanny  Evelyn  when  she  married  the  young  cler- 
gyman and  went  to  settle  in  that  smoky  hole,  Turley,  a 
very  nest  of  chartism  and  atheism,  in  a  part  of  the 
county  which  all  the  decent  families  had  had  to  leave 
for  years.  However,  somehow  or  other,  she  didn't 
seem  to  care.  If  her  husband's  living  had  been  among 
green  fields  and  near  pleasant  neighbors,  she  would 
have  liked  it  better,  that  she  never  pretended  to  deny. 
But  there  they  were :  the  air  wasn't  bad  after  all ;  the 
people  were  very  good  sort  of  people,  civil  to  you  if 
you  were  civil  to  them,  after  the  first  brush  ;  and  they 
didn't  expect  to  work  miracles,  and  convert  them  all 
off-hand  into  model  Christians.  So  he  and  she  went 
quietly  among  the  folk,  talking  to  and  treating  them 
just  as  they  would  have  done  people  of  their  own 
rank.  They  didn't  feel  that  they  were  doing  any  thing 
out  of  the  common  way,  and  so  were  perfectly  natural, 
and  had  none  of  that  condescension  or  consciousness 
of  manner  which  so  outrages  the  independent  poor. 
And  thus  they  gradually  won  respect  and  confidence ; 
and  after  sixteen  years  he  was  looked  up  to  by  the 
whole  neighborhood  as  the  just  man,  the  man  to  whom 
masters  and  men  could  go  in  their  strikes,  and  in  all 
their  quarrels  and  difficulties,  and  by  whom  the  right 
and  true  word  would  be  said  without  fear  or  favor. 
And  the  women  had  come  round  to  take  her  advice, 
and  go  to  her  as  a  friend  in  all  their  troubles ;  while 
the  children  all  worshiped  the  very  ground  she  trod  on. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  227 

They  had  three  children,  two  daughters  and  a  son, 
little  Arthur,  who  came  between  his  sisters.  He  had 
been  a  very  delicate  boy  from  his  childhood ;  they 
thought  he  had  a  tendency  to  consumption,  and  so  he 
had  been  kept  at  home  and  taught  by  his  father,  who 
had  made  a  companion  of  him,  and  from  whom  he  had 
gained  good  scholarship,  and  a  knowledge  of  and  in- 
terest in  many  subjects  which  boys  in  general  never 
come  across  till  they  are  many  years  older. 

Just  as  he  reached  his  thirteenth  year,  and  his 
father  had  settled  that  he  was  strong  enough  to  go  to 
school,  and,  after  much  debating  with  himself,  had  re- 
solved to  send  him  there,  a  desperate  typhus-fever 
broke  out  in  the  town;  most  of  the  other  clergy,  and 
almost  all  the  doctors  ran  away ;  the  work  fell  with 
tenfold  weight  on  those  who  stood  to  their  work. 
Arthur  and  his  wife  both  caught  the  fever,  of  which 
he  died  in  a  few  days,  and  she  recovered,  having  been 
able  to  nurse  him  to  the  end,  and  store  up  his  last 
words.  He  was  sensible  to  the  last,  and  calm  and 
happy,  leaving  his  wife  and  children  with  fearless 
trust  for  a  few  years  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord  and 
Friend  who  had  lived  and  died  for  him,  and  for  whom 
he,  to  the  best  of  his  power,  had  lived  and  died.  His 
widow's  mourning  was  deep  and  gentle  ;  she  was  more 
affected  by  the  request  of  the  committee  of  a  free- 
thinking  club,  established  in  the  town  by  some  of  the 
factory  hands  (which  he  had  striven  against  with 
might  and  main,  and  nearly  suppressed),  that  some  of 
their  number  might  be  allowed  to  help  bear  the  cof- 
fin, than  by  anything  else.  Two  of  them  were  chosen 
who  with  six  other  laboring  men,  his  own  fellow-work- 
men and  friends,  bore  him  to  his  grave — a  man  who 
had  fought  the  Lord's  fight  even  unto  the  death,  The 


228  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

shops  wore  closed  and  the  factories  shut  that  day  in 
the  parish,  yet  no  master  stopped  the  day's  wages ; 
but  for  many  a  year  afterward  the  townsfolk  felt  the 
•want  of  that  brave,  hopeful,  loving  parson,  and  his 
•wife,  who  had  lived  to  teach  them  mutual  forbearance 
and  helpfulness,  and  had  almost  at  last  given  them  a 
glimpse  of  what  this  old  world  would  be  if  people 
would  live  for  God  and  each  other,  instead  of  for  them- 
selves. 

What  has  all  this  to  do  with  our  story  ?  Well,  my 
dear  boys,  let  a  fellow  go  on  his  own  way,  or  you 
•won't  get  anything  out  of  him  worth  having.  I  must 
show  you  what  sort  of  a  man  it  was  who  had 
begotten  and  trained  little  Arthur,  or  else  you  won't 
believe  in  him,  which  I  am  resolved  you  shall  do ; 
and  you  won't  see  how  he,  the  timid,  weak  boy,  had 
points  in  him  from  which  the  bravest  and  strongest 
recoiled,  and  made  his  presence  and  example  felt 
from  the  first  on  all  sides,  unconsciously  to  himself, 
and  without  the  least  attempt  at  proselytizing. 
The  spirit  of  his  father  was  in  him;  and  the  Friend 
to  whom  his  father  had  left  him  did  not  neglect  the 
trust. 

After  supper  that  night,  and  almost  nightly  for 
years  afterward,  Tom  and  Arthur,  and  by  degrees 
East  occasionally,  and  sometimes  one,  sometimes  an- 
other, of  their  friends,  read  a  chapter  of  the  Bible 
together,  and  talked  it  over  afterward.  Tom  was  at 
first  utterly  astonished,  and  almost  shocked,  at  the 
sort  of  way  in  which  Arthur  read  the  book,  and 
talked  about  the  men  and  women  whose  lives  were 
there  told.  The  first  night  they  happened  to  fall  on 
the  chapters  about  the  famine  in  Egypt,  and  Arthur 
begun  talking  about  Joseph  as  jf  lie  were  a  Jiving 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  229 

statesman ;  just  as  he  might  have  talked  about  Lord 
Grey  and  the  reform  bill ;  only  that  they  were  much 
more  living  realities  to  him.  The  book  was  to  him, 
Tom  saw,  the  most  vivid  and  delightful  history  of 
real  people,  who  might  do  right  or  wrong,  just  like 
any  one  who  was  walking  about  in  Rugby — the  doctor 
or  the  masters,  or  the  sixth -form  boys.  But  the  aston- 
ishment soon  passed  off,  the  scales  seemed  to  drop 
from  his  eyes,  and  the  book  became  at  once  and  for- 
ever* to  him  the  great  human  and  divine  book,  and  the 
men  and  women,  whom  he  had  looked  upon  as  some- 
thing quite  different  from  himself,  became  his  friends 
and  counsellors. 

For  our  purposes,  however,  the  history  of  one 
night's  reading  will  be  sufficient,  which  must  be  told 
here,  now  we  are  on  the  subject,  though  it  didn't  hap- 
pen till  a  year  afterward,  and  long  after  the  events  re- 
corded in  the  next  chapter  of  our  story. 

Arthur,  Tom,  and  East  were  together  one  night,  and 
read  the  story  of  Naaman  coming  toElisha  to  be  cured 
of  his  leprosy.  When  the  chapter  was  finished,  Tom 
shut  his  Bible  with  a  slap. 

"I  can't  stand  that  fellow  Naaman,"  said  he  "after 
what  he'd  seen  and  felt,  going  back  and  bowing  him- 
self down  in  the  house  of  Rimmon,  because  his  effem- 
inate scoundrel  of  a  master  did  it.  I  wonder  Elisha 
took  the  trouble  to  heal  him.  How  he  must  have  de- 
spised him." 

"  Yes,  there  you  go  off  as  usual,  with  a  shell  on  your 
head,"  struck  in  East,  who  always  took  the  opposite 
side  to  Tom ;  half  from  love  of  argument,  half  from 
conviction.  "  How  do  you  know  he  didn't  think 
better  of  it  ?  How  do  you  know  his  master  was  a 
scoundrel  ?  His  letter  don't  look  like  it,  and  the 
book  don't  sav  so  " 


230  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  I  don't  care,"  rejoined  Tom  ;  "  why  did  Naaman 
talk  about  bowing  down,  then,  if  he  didn't  mean  to 
do  it !  He  wasn't  likely  to  get  more  in  earnest 
when  he  got  back  to  court,  and  away  from  the 
prophet." 

"  Well  but,  Tom,"  said  Arthur,  "  look  what  Elisha 
says  to  him,  'Go  in  peace.'  He  wouldn't  have  said 
that  if  Naaman  had  been  in  the  wrong." 

"I  don't  see  that  that  means  more  than  saying, 
'  You're  not  the  man  I  took  you  for.' " 

"No,  no,  that  won't  do  at  all,"  said  East;  "read 
the  words  fairly,  and  take  men  as  you  find  them.  I 
like  Naaman,  and  think  he  was  a  very  fine  fellow." 

"  I  don't,"  said  Tom,  positively. 

"Well,  I  think  East  is  right,"  said  Arthur;  "I 
can't  see  but  what  it's  right  to  do  the  best  you  can, 
though  it  mayn't  be  the  best  absolutely.  Every  man 
isn't  born  to  be  a  martyr." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  said  East ;  "  but  he's  on  one 
of  his  pet  hobbies.  How  often  have  I  told  you,  Tom, 
that  you  must  drive  a  nail  where  it'll  go." 

"And  how  often  have  I  told  you,"  rejoined  Tom, 
"that  it'll  always  go  where  you  want,  if  you  only 
stick  to  it  and  hit  hard  enough.  I  hate  half  measures 
and  compromises." 

"Yes,  he's  a  whole-hog  man,  is  Tom.  Must  have 
the  whole  animal,  hair  and  teeth,  claws  and  tail," 
laughed  East.  "  Sooner  have  no  bread  any  day  than 
half  the  loaf." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Arthur,  "  it's  rather  puzzling ; 
but  ain't  most  right  things  got  by  proper  compromises, 
I  mean  where  the  principle  isn't  given  up?" 

"  That's  just  the  point,"  said  Tom;  "  I  don't  object  to 
a  compromise  where  you  don't  give  up  your  principle." 


TOM  BKOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  231 

"Not  you,"  said  East,  laughingly.  "I  know  him  of 
old,  Arthur,  and  you'll  find  him  out  some  day.  There 
isn't  such  a  reasonable  fellow  in  the  world,  to  hear  him 
talk.  He  never  wants  anything  but  what's  right  and 
fair;  only  when  you  come  to  settle  what's  right  and 
fair,  it's  everything  that  he  wants,  and  nothing  that 
you  want.  And  that's  his  idea  of  a  compromise. 
Give  me  the  Brown  compromise  when  I'm  on  his 
side." 

"Now,  Harry,"  said  Tom,  "no  more  chaff — I'm 
serious.  Look  here — this  is  what  makes  my  blood 
tingle ; "  and  he  turned  over  the  pages  of  his  Bible  and 
read,  "  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego  answered  and 
said  to  the  king,  '  O  Nebuchadnezzar,  we  are  not  care- 
ful to  answer  thee  in  this  matter.  If  it  ~be  so,  our  God 
whom  we  serve  is  able  to  deliver  us  from  the  burning 
fiery  furnace,  and  He  will  deliver  us  out  of  thine 
hand,  O  king.  But  if  not,  be  it  known  unto  thee,  O 
king,  that  we  will  not  serve  thy  gods,  nor  worship  the 
golden  image  which  thou  hast  set  up.' "  He  read  the 
last  verse  twice,  emphasizing  the  nots,  and  dwelling  on 
them  as  if  they  gave  him  actual  pleasure,  and  were 
hard  to  part  with. 

They  were  silent  a  minute,  and  then  Arthur  said, 
"Yes,  that's  a  glorious  story,  but  it  don't  prove  your 
point,  Tom,  I  think.  There  are  times  when  there  is 
only  one  way,  and  that  the  highest,  and  then  the  men 
are  found  to  stand  in  the  breach." 

"  There's  always  a  highest  way,  and  it's  always  the 
right  one,"  said  Tom.  "How  many  times  has  the 
doctor  told  us  that  in  his  sermons  in  the  last  year,  I 
should  like  to  know  ? " 

"  Well,  you  ain't  going  to  convince  us,  is  he,  Arthur  ? 
$"0  Brown  compromise  to-night,"  said  East,  looking  at 


232  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

his  watch.     "But  it's  past  eight,  and  we  must  go  to 
first  lesson.     What  a  bore ! " 

So  they  took  down  their  books  and  fell  to  work ;  but 
Arthur  didn't  forget,  and  thought  long  and  often  over 
the  conversation. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  233 

CHAPTER  III. 

ARTHUR   MAKES   A   FRIEND. 

"  Let  Nature  be  your  teacher  : 
Sweet  is  the  lore  which  Nature  brings ; 
Our  meddling  intellect 
Mis-shapes  the  beauteous  forms  of  things 
We  murder  to  dissect — 
Enough  of  Science  and  of  Art ; 
Close  up  those  barren  leaves  : 
Come  forth,  and  bring  with  you  a  heart 
That  watches  and  receives." — WORDSWORTH. 

ABOUT  six  weeks  after  the  beginning  of  the  half,  as 
Tom  and  Arthur  were  sitting  one  night  before  supper 
beginning  their  verses,  Arthur  suddenly  stopped,  and 
looked  up,  and  said,  "  Tom,  do  you  know  anything  of 
Martin  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  taking  his  hand  out  of  his  back 
hair,  and  delighted  to  throw  his  Gradus  ad  Parnassum 
on  to  the  sofa ;  "  I  know  him  pretty  well.  He's  a  very 
good  fellow,  but  as  mad  as  a  hatter.  He's  called  Mad- 
man, you  know.  And  never  was  such  a  fellow  for 
getting  all  sorts  of  rum  things  about  him.  He  tamed 
two  snakes  last  half,  and  used  to  carry  them  about  in 
his  pocket,  and  I'll  be  bound  he's  got  some  hedge-hogs 
and  rats  in  his  cupboard  now,  and  no  one  knows  what 
besides." 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  know  him,"  said  Arthur ; 
"  he  was  next  to  me  in  the  form  to-day,  and  he'd  lost 
his  book  and  looked  over  mine,  and  he  seemed  so  kind 
and  gentle,  that  I  liked  him  very  much." 

"Ah,  poor  old  Madman,  he's  always  losing  his 
books,"  said  Tom,  "  and  getting  called  up  and  floored 
because  he  hasn't  got  them." 


234  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"I  like  him  all  the  better,"  said  Arthur. 

"  Well,  he's  great  fun,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Tom, 
throwing  himself  back  on  the  sofa,  and  chuckling  at 
the  remembrance.  "  We  had  such  a  game  with  him 
one  day  last  half.  He  had  been  kicking  up  horrid 
stinks  for  some  time  in  his  study,  till  I  suppose  some 
fellow  told  Mary,  and  she  told  the  doctor.  Anyhow, 
one  day  a  little  before  dinner,  when  he  came  down  from 
the  library,  the  doctor,  instead  of  going  home,  came 
striding  into  the  hall.  East  and  I  and  five  or  six  other 
fellows  were  at  the  fire,  and  preciously  we  stared,  for 
he  don't  come  in  like  that  once  a-year,  unless  it  is  a 
wet  day  and  there's  a  fight  in  the  Hall.  '  East,'  says 
he,  '  just  come  and  show  me  Martin's  study.'  '  Oh, 
here's  a  game,'  whispered  the  rest  of  us,  and  we  all  cut 
up-stairs  after  the  doctor,  East  leading.  As  we  got 
into  the  New  Row,  which  was  hardly  wide  enough  to 
hold  the  doctor  and  his  gown,  click,  click,  click,  we 
heard  in  the  old  Madman's  den.  Then  that  stopped  all 
of  a  sudden,  and  the  bolts  went  to  like  fun  ;  the  Mad- 
man knew  East's  step,  and  thought  there  was  going  to 
be  a  siege. 

" '  It's  the  doctor,  Martin.  He's  here,  and  wants  to 
see  you,'  sings  out  East. 

"  Then  the  bolts  went  back  slowly,  and  the  door 
opened,  and  there  was  the  old  Madman  standing, 
looking  precious  scared  ;  his  jacket  off,  his  shirt-sleeves 
up  to  his  elbows,  and  his  long,  skinny  arms  all  covered 
with  anchors  and  arrows  and  letters,  tattooed  in  with 
gun-powder  like  a  sailor  boy's,  and  a  stink  fit  to  knock 
you  down  coming  out.  'Twas  all  the  doctor  could  do 
to  stand  his  ground,  and  East  and  I,  who  were  look- 
ing in  under  his  arms,  held  our  noses  tight.  The  old 
magpie  was  standing  on  the  window-sill,  all  his  fea^ 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  235 

thers  drooping,  and  looking  disgusted  and  half- 
poisoned. 

"  '  What  can  you  be  about,  Martin  ? '  says  the  doc- 
tor ;  '  you  really  mustn't  go  on  in  this  way — you're 
a  nuisance  to  the  whole  passage.' 

"  '  Please,  sir,  I  was  only  mixing  up  this  powder, 
there  isn't  any  harm  in  it;'  and  the  Madman  seized 
nervously  on  his  pestle  and  mortar,  to  show  the  doctor 
the  harmlessness  of  his  pursuits,  and  went  off  pound- 
ing ;  click,  click,  click ;  he  hadn't  given  six  clicks  be- 
fore, puff !  up  went  the  whole  into  a  great  blaze, away 
went  the  pestle  and  mortar  across  the  study,  and  back 
we  tumbled  into  the  passage.  The  magpie  fluttered 
down  into  the  court,  swearing,  and  the  Madman 
danced  out,  howling,  with  his  fingers  in  his  mouth. 
The  doctor  caught  hold  of  him,  and  called  to  us  to 
fetch  some  water.  '  There,  you  silly  fellow,'  said  he, 
quite  pleased  though,  to  find  he  wasn't  much  hurt, 
'you  see  you  don't  know  the  least  what  you're  doing 
with  all  these  things  ;  and,  now,  mind,  you  must  give 
up  practising  chemistry  by  yourself.'  Then  he  took 
hold  of  his  arm  and  looked  at  it,  and  I  saw  he  had  to 
bite  his  lip,  and  his  eyes  twinkled;  but  he  said,  quite 
grave,  '  here,  you  see,  you've  been  been  making  all 
these  foolish  marks  on  yourself,  which  you  can  never 
get  out,  and  you'll  be  very  sorry  for  it  in  a  year  or 
two :  now  come  down  to  the  housekeeper's  room,  and 
let  us  see  if  you  are  hurt.'  And  away  went  the  two, 
and  we  all  stayed  and  had  a  regular  turn-out  of  the 
den,  till  Martin  came  back,  with  his  hand  bandaged, 
and  turned  us  out.  However,  I'll  go  and  see  what  he's 
after,  and  tell  him  to  come  in  after  prayers  to  supper." 
And  away  went  Tom  to  find  the  boy  in  question,  who 
dwelt  in  a  little  study  by  himself,  in  New  Row. 


236  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

The  aforesaid  Martin,  whom  Arthur  had  taken  such 
a  fancy  for,  was  one  of  those  unfortunates  who  were 
at  that  time  of  day  (and  are,  I  fear,  still)  quite  out 
of  their  places  at  a  public  school.  If  we  knew  how  to 
use  our  boys,  Martin  would  have  been  seized  upon  and 
educated  as  a  natural  philosopher.  He  had  a  passion 
for  birds,  beasts,  and  insects,  and  knew  more  of  them 
and  their  habits  than  any  one  in  Rugby ;  except,  per- 
haps, the  doctor,  who  knew  everything.  He  was  also 
an  experimental  chemist  on  a  small  scale,  and  had 
made  unto  himself  an  electric  machine,  from  which  it 
was  his  greatest  pleasure  and  glory  to  administer  small 
shocks  to  any  small  boys  who  were  rash  enough  to 
venture  into  his  study.  And  this  was  by  no  means  an 
adventure  free  from  excitement;  for  besides  the  proba- 
bility of  a  snake  dropping  on  to  your  head  or  twining 
lovingly  up  your  leg,  or  a  rat  getting  into  your  breeches- 
pocket  in  search  of  food,  there  was  the  animal  and 
chemical  odor  to  be  faced,  which  always  hung  about 
the  den,  and  the  chance  of  being  blown  up  in  some  of 
the  many  experiments  which  Martin  was  always  try- 
ing, with  the  most  wondrous  results  in  the  shape  of  ex- 
plosions and  smells,  that  mortal  boy  ever  heard  of.  Of 
course,  poor  Martin,  in  consequence  of  his  pursuits, 
had  become  an  Ishmaelite  in  the  house.  In  the  first 
place,  he  half -poisoned  all  his  neighbors,  and  they  in  turn 
were  always  on  the  look-out  to  pounce  upon  any  of 
his  numerous  live-stock,  and  drive  him  frantic  by  en- 
ticing his  pet  old  magpie  out  of  his  window  into  a 
neighboring  study,  and  making  the  disreputable  old 
bird  drunk  on  toast  soaked  in  beer  and  sugar.  Then 
Martin,  for  his  sins,  inhabited  a  study  looking  into  a 
small  court  some  ten  feet  across,  the  window  of  which 
was  completely  commanded  by  those  of  the  studies 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  237 

opposite  in  the  Sick-room  Row,  these  latter  being  at  a 
slightly  higher  elevation.  East,  and  another  boy  of 
an  equally  tormenting  and  ingenious  turn  of  mind, 
now  lived  exactly  opposite,  and  had  expended  huge 
pains  and  time  in  the  preparation  of  instruments  of 
annoyance  for  the  behoof  of  Martin  and  his  live  col- 
ony. One  morning  an  old  basket  made  its  appearance, 
suspended  by  a  short  cord  outside  Martin's  window,  in 
which  were  deposited  an  amateur  nest  containing  four 
young  hungry  jackdaws,  the  pride  and  glory  of  Martin's 
life  for  the  time  being,  and  which  he  was  currently  as- 
serted to  have  hatched  upon  his  own  person.  Early  in 
the  morning,  and  late  at  night  he  was  to  be  seen  half 
out  of  window,  administering  to  the  varied  wants  of  his 
callow  brood.  After  deep  cogitation,  East  and  his 
chum  had  spliced  a  knife  on  to  the  end  of  a  fishing- 
rod  ;  and  having  watched  Martin  out,  had,  after  half- 
an-hour's  severe  sawing,  cut  the  string  by  which  the 
basket  was  suspended,  and  tumbled  it  on  to  the  pave- 
ment below,  with  hideous  remonstrance  from  the  occu- 
pants. Poor  Martin,  returning  from  his  short  absence, 
collected  the  fragments  and  replaced  his  brood  (except 
one  whose  neck  had  been  broken  in  the  descent)  in 
their  old  location,  suspending  them  this  time  by  string 
and  wire  twisted  together,  defiant  of  any  sharp  instru- 
ment which  his  persecutors  could  command.  But,  like 
the  Russian  engineers  at  Sebastopol,  East,  and  his 
chum  had  an  answer  for  every  move  of  the  adversary  ; 
and  the  next  day  had  mounted  a  gun  in  the  shape  of  a 
pea-shooter  upon  the  ledge  of  their  window,  trained  so 
as  to  bear  exactly  upon  the  spot  which  Martin  had  to  oc- 
cupy while  tending  his  nurselings.  The  moment  he 
began  to  feed,  they  began  to  shoot ;  in  vain  did  the 
enemy  himself  invest  in  a  pea-shooter,  and  endeavor 


238  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

to  answer  the  fire  while  he  fed  the  young  birds  with 
his  other  hand ;  his  attention  was  divided,  and  his 
shots  flew  wild,  while  every  one  of  theirs  told  on  his 
face  and  hands,  and  drove  him  into  bowlings  and  im- 
precations. He  had  been  driven  to  ensconce  the  nest 
in  a  corner  of  his  already  too  well-filled  den. 

His  door  was  barricaded  by  a  set  of  ingenious  bolts 
of  his  own  invention,  for  the  sieges  were  frequent  by 
the  neighbors  when  any  unusually  ambrosial  odor 
spread  itself  from  the  den  to  the  neighboring  studies. 
The  door  panels  were  in  a  normal  state  of  smash,  but 
the  frame  of  the  door  resisted  all  besiegers,  and  behind 
it  the  owner  carried  on  his  varied  pursuits ;  much  in 
the  same  state  of  mind,  I  should  fancy,  as  a  border- 
farmer  lived  in,  in  the  days  of  the  old  mosstroopers, 
when  his  hold  might  be  summoned  or  his  cattle  carried 
off  at  any  minute  of  night  or  day. 

"  Open,  Martin,  old  boy — it's  only  I,  Tom  Brown." 

"Oh,  very  well,  stop  a  moment."  One  bolt  went 
back.  "  You're  sure  East  isn't  there?" 

"  No,  no,  hang  it,  open."  Tom  gave  a  kick,  the 
other  bolt  creaked,  and  he  entered  the  den. 

Den  indeed  it  was,  about  five  feet  six  inches  long 
by  five  wide,  and  seven  feet  high.  About  six  tattered 
school-books,  and  a  few  chemical  books,  "  Taxidermy," 
"  Stanley  on  Birds,"  and  an  odd  volume  of  "  Bewick," 
the  latter  in  much  better  preservation,  occupied  the 
top  shelves.  The  other  shelves,  where  they  had  not 
been  cut  away  and  used  by  the  owner  for  other  pur- 
poses, were  fitted  up  for  the  abiding  places  of  birds, 
beasts  and  reptiles.  There  was  no  attempt  at  carpet 
or  curtain.  The  table  was  entirely  occupied  by  the 
the  great  work  of  Martin,  the  electric  machine,  which 
^yas  covered  carefully  with  the  remains  of  his  table- 


TOM  BfcOWN's  SCHOOL  DAYS.  230 

cloth.  The  jackdaw  cage  occupied  one  wall,  and  the 
other  was  adorned  by  a  small  hatchet,  a  pair  of  climb- 
ing irons,  and  his  tin  candle-box,  in  which  he  was 
for  the  time  being  endeavoring  to  raise  a  hopeful 
young  family  of  field-mice.  As  nothing  should  be  let 
to  lie  useless,  it  was  well  that  the  candle-box  was  thus 
occupied,  for  candles  Martin  never  had.  A  pound 
was  issued  to  him  weekly,  as  to  the  other  boys  but  as 
candles  were  available  capital,  and  easily  exchange- 
able for  birds'-eggs  or  young  birds,  Martin's  pound  in- 
variably found  its  way  in  a  few  hours  to  Hewlett's  the 
bird-fancier's,  in  the  Bilton  Road,  who  would  give  a 
hawk's  or  nightingale's  egg  or  young  linnet  in  ex- 
change. Martin's  ingenuity  was  therefore  forever 
on  the  rack  to  supply  himself  with  a  light ;  just  now 
he  had  hit  upon  a  grand  invention,  and  the  den  was 
lighted  by  a  flaring  cotton-wick  issuing  from  a  ginger- 
beer  bottle  full  of  some  doleful  composition.  When 
light  altogether  failed  him,  Martin  would  loaf  about 
by  the  fires  in  the  passages  or  hall,  after  the  manner 
of  Diggs,  and  try  to  do  his  verses  or  learn  his  lines  by 
the  fire-light. 

"  Well,  old  boy,  you  havn't  got  any  sweeter  in  the 
den  this  half.  How  that  stuff  in  the  bottle  stinks. 
Never  mind,  I  ain't  going  to  stop,  but  you  c®me  up 
after  prayers  to  our  study  ;  you  know  young  Arthur; 
we've  got  Gray's  study.  We'll  have  agood  supper  and 
talk  about  birds'-nesting." 

Martin  was  evidently  highly  pleased  at  the  invita- 
tion, and  promised  to  be  up  without  fail. 

As  soon  as  prayers  were  over,  and  the  sixth  and 
fifth-form  boys  had  withdrawn  to  the  aristocratic  se- 
clusion of  their  own  room,  and  the  rest,  or  democracy 
bad  set  down  to  their  supper  in  the  hall,  Tom  and  Ar- 


240  tott  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  t>AYS. 

thur,  having  secured  their  allowances  of  bread  and 
cheese,  started  on  their  feet  to  catch  the  eye  of  the 
praepostor  of  the  week,  who  remained  in  charge  during 
supper,  walking  up  and  down  the  hall.  He  happened 
to  be  an  easy-going  fellow,  so  they  got  a  pleasant  nod 
to  their  "  Please  may  I  go  out  ? "  and  away  they 
scrambled  to  prepare  for  Martin  a  sumptuous  banquet. 
This  Tom  had  insisted  on,  for  he  was  in  great  delight 
on  the  occasion;  the  reason  of  which  delight  must 
be  expounded.  The  fact  was,  this  was  the  first  at- 
tempt at  a  friendship  of  his  own  which  Arthur  had 
made,  and  Tom  hailed  it  as  a  grand  step.  The  ease 
with  which  he  himself  became  hail-fellow-well-met 
with  anybody,  and  blundered  into  and  out  of  twenty 
friendships  a  half-year,  made  him  sometimes  sorry  and 
sometimes  angry  at  Arthur's  reserve  and  loneliness. 
True,  Arthur  was  always  pleasant,  and  even  jolly, 
with  any  boys  who  came  with  Tom  to  their  study ; 
but  Tom  felt  that  it  was  only  through  him,  as  it  were, 
that  his  chum  associated  with  others,  and  that  but  for 
him  Arthur  would  have  been  dwelling  in  a  wilder- 
ness. This  increased  his  consciousness  of  respon- 
sibility; and  though  he  hadn't  reasoned  it  out  and 
made  it  clear  to  himself,  yet  somehow  he  knew  that 
this  responsibility,  this  trust  which  he  had  taken  on 
him  without  thinking  about  it,  head-over-heels  in  fact, 
was  the  center  and  turning-point  of  his  school  life, 
that  which  was  to  make  him  or  mar  him;  his  ap- 
pointed work  and  trial  for  the  time  being.  And  Tom 
was  becoming  a  new  boy,  though  with  frequent 
tumbles  in  the  dirt  and  perpetual  hard  battle  with 
himself,  and  was  daily  growing  in  man  fulness  and 
thoughtfulness,  as  every  high-couraged  and  well-prin- 
cipled boy  must,  when  he  finds  himself  for  the  first 


tOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  S-li 

time  consciously  at  grips  with  self  and  the  devil. 
Already  he  could  turn  almost  without  a  sigh,  from 
the  school-gates,  from  which  had  just  scampered  off 
East  and  three  or  four  others  of  his  own  particular  set, 
bound  for  some  jolly  lark  not  quite  according  to  law, 
and  involving  probably  a  row  with  louts,  keepers,  or 
farm-laborers,  the  skipping  dinner  or  calling-over, 
some  of  Phoebe  Jennings'  beer,  and  a  very  possible 
flogging  at  the  end  of  all  as  a  relish.  He  had  quite 
got  over  the  stage  in  which  he  would  grumble  to  him- 
self, "  Well,  hang  it,  it's  very  hard  of  the  doctor  to 
have  saddled  me  with  Arthur.  Why  couldn't  he 
have  chummed  him  with  Fogey,  or  Thomkin,  or  any  of 
the  fellows  who  never  do  anything  but  walk  round  the 
close,  and  finish  their  copies  the  first  day  they're 
set?"  But  although  all  this  was  past,  he  often 
longed,  and  felt  that  he  was  right  in  longing,  for  more 
time  for  the  legitimate  pastimes  of  cricket,  fives, 
bathing,  and  fishing  within  bounds,  and  which  Arthur 
could  not  yet  be  his  companion  ;  and  he  felt  that  when 
the  young  'un  (as  he  now  generally  called  him)  had 
found  a  pursuit  and  some  other  friend  for  himself,  he 
should  be  able  to  give  more  time  to  the  education  of 
his  own  body  with  a  clear  conscience. 

And  now  what  he  so  wished  for  had  come  to  pass, 
he  almost  hailed  it  as  a  special  providence  (as  indeed  it 
was,  but  not  for  the  reasons  he  gave  for  it — what 
providences  are  ?)  that  Arthur  should  have  singled  out 
Martin  of  all  fellows  for  a  friend.  "  The  old  Madman 
is  the  very  fellow,"  thought  he;  "he  will  take  him 
scrambling  over  half  the  country  after  birds'  eggs  and 
flowers,  make  him  run  and  swim  and  climb  like  an 
Indian,  and  not  teach  him  a  word  of  anything  bad,  or 
keep  him  from  his  lessons.  What  luck ! "  And  so, 


242  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

with  more  than  his  usual  heartiness,  he  dived  into  his 
cupboard,  and  hauled  out  an  old  knuckle-bone  of  ham, 
and  two  or  three  bottles  of  beer,  together  with  the 
solemn  pewter  only  used  on  state  occasions ;  while 
Arthur,  equally  elated  at  the  easy  accomplishment  of 
his  first  act  of  volition  in  the  joint  establishment,  pro- 
duced from  his  side  a  bottle  of  pickles  and  a  pot  of 
jam,  and  cleared  the  table.  In  a  minute  or  two  the 
noise  of  the  boys  coming  up  from  supper  was  heard 
and  Martini  knocked  and  was  admitted,  bearing  his 
bread  and  cheese,  and  the  three  fell  to  with  hearty 
good-will  upon  the  viands,  talking  faster  than  they  ate, 
for  all  shyness  disappeared  in  a  moment  before  Tom's 
bottled  beer  and  hospitable  ways.  "  Here's  Arthur, 
a  regular  young  town  mouse,  with  a  natural  taste  for 
the  woods,  Martin,  longing  to  break  his  neck  climbing 
trees,  and  with  a  passion  for  young  snakes." 

"  Well,  I  say,"  sputtered  out  Martin,  eagerly,  "  will 
you  come  to-morrow,  both  of  you,  to  Caldecott's  Spin- 
ney, then,  for  I  know  of  a  kestrel's  nest,  up  a  fir-tree — 
I  can't  get  at  it  without  help ;  and,  Brown,  you  can. 
climb  against  any  one." 

"  Oh  yes,  do  let  us  go,"  said  Arthur ;  "  I  never  saw 
a  hawk's  nest,  nor  a  hawk's  egg. 

"  You  just  come  down  to  my  study  then,  and  I'll 
show  you  five  sorts,"  said  Martin. 

"Ay,  the  old  Madman  has  got  the  best  collection  in 
the  house,  out-and-out,"  said  Tom ;  and  then  Martin, 
warming  with  unaccustomed  good  cheer  and  the  chance 
of  a  convert,  launched  out  into  a  proposed  birds'-nest- 
ing  campaign,  betraying  all  manner  of  important 
secrets;  a  golden-crested  wren's  nest  near  Butlin's 
Mound,  a  moor-hen  that  was  sitting  on  nine  eggs  in  a 
pond  down  the  Barby  Road,  and  a  kingfisher's  nest  in, 


TOM  BKOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  243 

a  corner  of  the  old  canal  above  Brownsover  Mill.  He 
had  heard,  he  said,  that  no  one  had  ever  got  a  king- 
fisher's nest  out  perfect,  and  that  the  British  Museum, 
or  the  government,  or  somebody,  had  offered  £100  to 
any  one  who  could  bring  them  a  nest  and  eggs  not 
damaged.  In  the  middle  of  which  astounding  an- 
nouncement, to  which  the  others  were  listening  with 
open  ears,  already  considering  the  application  of  the 
£100,  a  knock  came  at  the  door,  and  East's  voice  was 
heard  craving  admittance. 

"  There's  Harry,"  said  Tom ;  "  we'll  let  him  in— I'll 
keep  him  steady,  Martin.  I  thought  the  old  boy  would 
smell  out  the  supper." 

The  fact  was  that  Tom's  heart  had  already  smitten 
him  for  not  asking  his  "  fidus  Achates "  to  the  feast, 
although  only  an  extempore  affair ;  and  though  pru- 
dence and  the  desire  to  get  Martin  and  Arthur  together 
alone  at  first  had  overcome  his  scruples,  he  was  now 
heartily  glad  to  open  the  door,  broach  another  bottle 
of  beer,  and  hand  over  the  old  ham-knuckle  to  the 
searching  of  his  old  friend's  pocket-knife. 

"Ah,  you  greedy  vagabonds,"  said  East,  with  his 
mouth  full;  "I  knew  there  was  something  going  on 
when  I  saw  you  cut  off  out  of  hall  so  quick  with  your 
suppers.  What  a  stunning  tap,  Tom !  you  are  a  wunner 
for  bottling  the  swipes." 

"  I've  had  practice  enough  for  the  sixth  in  my  time, 
and  it's  hard  if  I  haven't  picked  up  a  wrinkle  or  two 
for  my  own  benefit." 

"  "Well,  old  Madman,  how  goes  the  birds'-nesting  cam- 
paign ?  How's  Howlett  ?  I  expect  the  young  rooks'll 
be  out  in  another  fortnight,  and  then  my  turn  comes." 

"  There'll  be  no  young  rooks  fit  for  pies  for  a  month 
yet;  shows  how  much  you  know  about  it,"  rejoined 


244  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Martin,  who,  though  very  good  friends  with  East,  re- 
garded him  with  considerable  suspicion  for  his  propen- 
sity to  practical  jokes. 

"  Scud  knows  nothing  and  cares  for  nothing  but 
grub  and  mischief,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but  young  rook  pie, 
specially  when  you've  had  to  climb  for  them,  is  very 
pretty  eating.  However,  I  say,  Scud,  we're  all  going 
after  a  hawk's  nest  to  morrow,  in  Caldecott's  Spinney  ; 
and  if  you'll  come  and  behave  yourself,  we'll  have  a 
stunning  climb." 

"  And  a  bath  in  Aganippe.  Hooray !  I'm  your 
man ! " 

"No, no;  no  bathing  in  Aganippe;  that's  where  our 
betters  go." 

"Well,  well,  nevermind.  I'm  for  the  hawk's  nest 
and  anything  that  turns  up." 

And  the  bottled-beer  being  finished,  and  his  hunger 
appeased,  East  departed  to  his  study,  "  that  sneak 
Jones,"  as  he  informed  them,  who  had  just  got  into  the 
sixth  and  occupied  the  next  study,  having  instituted  a 
nightly  visitation  upon  East  and  his  chum,  to  their  no 
small  discomfort. 

When  he  was  gone,  Martin  rose  to  follow,  but  Tom 
stopped  him.  "  No  one  goes  near  New  How,"  said  he, 
"  so  you  may  just  as  well  stop  here  and  do  your  V3rses, 
and  then  we'll  have  some  more  talk.  We'll  be  no 
end  quiet ;  besides,  no  praepostor  comes  here  now — we 
haven't  been  visited  once  this  half." 

So  the  table  was  cleared,  the  cloth  rertored,  and  the 
three  fell  to  work  with  Gradus  and  dictionary  upon  the 
morning's  vulgus. 

They  were  three  very  fair  examples  of  the  way  in 
which  such  tasks  were  done  at  Hugby,  in  the  consul- 
ship of  PJancus.  And  cjoubtiess  the  method  is  little 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  245 

changed,  for  there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun,  espec- 
ially at  schools. 

Now  be  it  known  unto  all  you  boys  who  are  at 
schools  which  do  not  rejoice  in  the  time-honored  insti- 
tution of  the  Yulgus  (commonly  supposed  to  have  been 
established  by  William  of  Wykeham  at  Winchester,  and 
imported  to  Rugby  by  Arnold,  more  for  the  sake  of  the 
lines  which  were  learned  by  heart  with  it,  than  for  its 
own  intrinsic  value,  as  I've  always  understood)  that  it 
is  a  short  exercise,  in  Greek  or  Latin  verse,  on  a  given 
subject,  the  minimum  number  of  lines  being  fixed  for 
each  form.  The  master  of  the  form  gave  out  at  fourth 
lesson  on  the  previous  day  the  subject  for  next  morn- 
ing's vulgus,  and  at  first  lesson  each  boy  had  to  bring 
his  vulgus  ready  to  be  looked  over;  and  with  the  vul- 
gus, a  certain  number  of  lines  from  one  of  the  Latin  or 
Greek  poets  then  being  construed  in  the  form  had  to 
be  got  by  heart.  The  master  at  first  lesson  called  up 
each  boy  in  the  form  in  order,  and  put  him  on  in  the 
lines.  If  he  couldn't  say  them,  or  seem  to  say  them, 
by  reading  them  off  the  master's  or  some  other  boy's 
book  who  stood  near,  he  was  sent  back,  and  went  below 
all  the  boys  who  did  so  say  or  seem  to  say  them ;  but 
in  either  case  his  vulgus  was  looked  over  by  the  master, 
who  gave  and  entered  in  his  book,  to  the  credit  or  dis- 
credit of  the  boy,  so  many  marks  as  the  composition 
merited.  At  Rugby  vulgus  and  lines  were  the  first 
lesson  every  other  day  in  the  week,  or  Tuesdays,  Thurs- 
days and  Saturdays ;  and  as  there  were  thirty-eight 
weeks  in  the  school  year,  it  is  obvious  to  the  meanest 
capacity  that  the  master  of  each  form  had  to  set  one 
hundred  and  fourteen  subjects  every  year,  two  hundred 
and  twenty-eight  every  two  years,  and  so  on.  Now  to 
persons  of  moderate  invention  this  was  a  considerable 


246  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

task,  and  human  nature  being  prone  to  repeat  itself,  it 
will  not  be  wondered  that  the  masters  gave  the  same 
subjects  sometimes  over  again  after  a  certain  lapse  of 
time.  To  meet  and  rebuke  this  bad  habit  of  the  mas- 
ters, the  school-boy  mind,  with  its  accustomed  ingenuity 
had  invented  an  elaborate  system  of  tradition.  Almost 
every  boy  kept  his  own  vulgus  written  out  in  a  book, 
and  these  books  were  duly  handed  down  from  boy  to 
boy,  till  (if  the  tradition  has  gone  on  till  now)  I  suppose 
the  popular  boys,  in  whose  hands  bequeathed  vulgus- 
books  have  accumulated,  are  prepared  with  three  or 
four  vulguses  on  any  subject  in  heaven  or  earth,  or  in 
"  more  worlds  than  one,"  which  an  unfortunate  master 
can  pitch  upon.  At  any  rate,  such  lucky  fellows  had 
generally  one  for  themselves  and  one  for  a  friend  in  my 
time.  The  only  objection  to  the  traditionary  method 
of  doing  your  vulguses  was,  the  risk  that  the  successions 
might  have  become  confused,  and  so  that  you  and  an- 
other follower  of  traditions  should  show  up  the  same 
identical  vulgus  some  fine  morning;  in  which  case, 
when  it  happened,  considerable  grief  was  the  result — 
but  when  did  such  risk  hinder  boys  or  men  from  short 
cuts  and  pleasant  paths  ? 

Now  in  the  study  that  night,  Tom  was  the  upholder 
of  the  traditionary  method  of  vulgus  doing.  He  care- 
fully produced  two  large  vulgus-books,  and  began  div- 
ing into  them,  and  picking  out  a  line  here,  and  an  end- 
ing there  (tags,  as  they  were  vulgarly  called),  till  he  had 
gotten  all  that  he  thought  he  could  make  fit.  He  then 
proceeded  to  patch  his  tags  together  with  the  help  of 
his  Gradus,  producing  an  incongruous  and  feeble  result 
of  eight  elegiac  lines,  the  minimum  quantity  of  his 
form,  and  finishing  up  with  two  highly  moral  lines  ex- 
tra, making  ten  in  all,  which  he  cribbed  entire  from 


TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  247 

one  of  his  books,  beginning  "  0  genus  humanum"  and 
which  he  himself  must  have  used  a  dozen  times  before, 
whenever  an  unfortunate  or  wicked  hero,  of  whatever 
nation  or  language  under  the  sun,  was  the  subject. 
Indeed,  he  began  to  have  great  doubts  whether  the 
master  wouldn't  remember  them,  and  so  only  threw 
them  in  as  extra  lines,  because  in  any  case  they  would 
call  off  attention  from  the  other  tags,  and  if  detected, 
being  extra  lines,  he  wouldn't  be  sent  back  to  do  two 
more  in  their  place,  while  if  they  passed  muster  again 
he  would  get  marks  for  them. 

The  second  method  pursued  by  Martin  may  be  called 
the  dogged,  or  prosaic  method.  He,  no  more  than 
Tom,  took  any  pleasure  in  the  task,  but  having  no  old 
vulgus-books  of  his  own,  or  any  one's  else,  could  not 
follow  the  traditionary  method,  for  which  too,  as  Tom 
remarked,  he  hadn't  the  genius.  Martin  then  pro- 
ceeded to  write  down  eight  lines  in  English,  of  the 
most  matter-of-fact  kind,  the  first  that  came  into  his 
head,  and  to  convert  these,  line  by  line,  by  main  force 
of  Gradus  and  dictionary,  into  Latin  that  would  scan. 
This  was  all  he  cared  for,  to  produce  eight  lines  with 
no  false  quantities  or  concords :  whether  the  words 
were  apt,  or  what  the  sense  was,  mattered  nothing, 
and,  as  the  article  was  all  new,  not  a  line  beyond  the 
minimum  did  the  followers  of  the  dogged  method 
ever  produce. 

The  third,  or  artistic  method,  was  Arthur's.  He 
considered  first  what  point  in  the  character  or  event 
which  was  the  subject  could  most  neatly  be  brought 
out  within  the  limits  of  a  vulgus,  trying  always  to  get 
his  idea  into  the  eight  lines,  but  not  binding  himself  to 
ten  or  even  twelve  lines  if  he  couldn't  do  this.  He 
then  set  to  work,  as  much  as  possible  without  Gradus 


248  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

or  other  help,  to  clothe  his  idea  in  appropriate  Latin 
or  Greek,  and  would  not  be  satisfied  till  he  had  pol- 
ished it  well  up  with  the  aptest  and  most  poetic  words 
and  phrases  he  could  get  at. 

A  fourth  method  indeed  was  used  in  the  school,  but 
of  too  simple  a  kind  to  require  a  comment.  It  may  be 
called  the  vicarious  method,  obtained  among  big  boys 
of  lazy  or  bullying  habits,  and  consisted  simply  in 
making  clever  boys  whom  they  could  thrash  do  their 
whole  vulgus  for  them,  and  construe  it  to  them  after- 
ward ;  which  latter  is  a  method  not  to  be  encouraged, 
and  which  I  strongly  advise  you  all  not  to  practise. 
Of  the  others,  you  will  find  the  traditionary  most 
troublesome,  unless  you  can  steal  your  vulguses  whole 
(experto  crede),  and  that  the  artistic  method  pays  the 
best  both  in  marks  and  other  ways. 

The  vulguses  being  finished  by  nine  o'clock,  and 
Martin  having  rejoiced  above  measure  in  the  abund- 
ance of  light,  and  of  Gradus  and  dictionary,  and 
other  conveniences  almost  unknown  to  him  for  getting 
through  the  work,  and  having  been  pressed  by  Arthur 
to  come  and  do  his  verses  there  whenever  he  liked, 
the  three  boys  went  down  to  Martin's  den,  and 
Arthur  was  initiated  into  the  lore  of  bird's-eggs,  to  his 
great  delight.  The  exquisite  coloring  and  forms  as- 
tonished and  charmed  him  who  had  scarcely  ever 
seen  any  but  a  hen's  egg  or  an  ostrich's  and  by  the 
time  he  was  lugged  away  to  bed  he  had  learned  the 
names  of  at  least  twenty  sorts,  and  dreamed  of  the 
glorious  perils  of  tree-climbing  and  that  he  had  found  a 
roc's  egg  in  the  island  as  big  as  Sind bad's  and  clouded 
like  a  tit-lark's,  in  blowing  which  Martin  and  he  had 
nearly  been  drowned  in  the  yolk, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  249 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   BIRD-FANCIEES. 

"  I  have  found  out  a  gift  for  my  fair, 

I  have  found  where  the  wood-pigeons  breed: 
But  let  me  the  plunder  forbear, 

She  would  say  'twas  a  barbarous  deed." 

— ROWE. 

"And  now,  my  lad,  take  them  five  shilling, 

And  on  my  advice  in  future  think; 
So  Billy  pouched  them  all  so  willing, 
And  got  that  night  disguised  in  drink." 

— MS.  BALLAD. 

THE  next  morning  at  first  lesson  Tom  was  turned 
back  in  his  lines,  and  so  had  to  wait  till  the  second 
round,  while  Martin  and  Arthur  said  theirs  all  right 
and  got  out  of  school  at  once.  When  Tom  got  out 
and  ran  down  to  breakfast  at  Harro well's  they  were 
missing,  and  Stumps  informed  him  that  they  had 
swallowed  down  their  breakfasts  and  gone  off  together, 
where,  he  couldn't  say.  Tom  hurried  over  his  own 
breakfast,  and  went  first  to  Martin's  study  and  then  to 
his  own,  but  no  signs  of  the  missing  boys  were  to  be 
found.  He  felt  half  angry  and  jealous  of  Martin — 
where  could  they  be  gone  ? 

He  learned  second  lesson  with  East  and  the  rest  in 
no  very  good  temper,  and  then  went  out  into  the 
quadrangle.  About  ten  minutes  before  school,  Martin 
and  Arthur  arrived  in  the  quadrangle  breathless ;  and, 


250  TOM   BROWX'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

catching  sight  of  him,  Arthur  rushed  up  all  excite- 
ment and  with  a  bright  glow  on  his  face. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  look  here,"  cried  he,  holding  out  three 
moor-hen's  eggs  ;  "  we've  been  down  the  Barby  road 
to  the  pool  Martin  told  us  of  last  night,  and  just  see 
what  we've  got." 

Tom  wouldn't  be  pleased,  and  only  looked  out  for 
something  to  find  fault  with. 

"  Why,  young  un,"  said  he,  "  what  have  you  been 
after?  You  don't  mean  to  say  you've  been  wading?  " 

The  tone  of  reproach  made  poor  little  Arthur 
shrink  up  in  a  moment  and  look  piteous,  and  Tom 
with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  turned  his  anger  on 
Martin. 

"Well,  I  didn't  think,  Madman,  that  you'd  have 
been  such  a  muff  as  to  let  him  be  getting  wet  through 
at  this  time  of  day.  You  might  have  done  the  wading 
yourself." 

"  So  I  did,  of  course,  only  he  would  come  in  too,  to 
see  the  nest.  We  left  six  eggs  in  ;  they'll  be  hatched 
in  a  day  or  two." 

"  Hang  the  eggs ! "  said  Tom,  "  a  fellow  can' t  turn 
his  back  for  a  moment  but  all  his  work's  undone. 
He'll  be  laid  up  for  a  week  for  this  precious  lark  I'll 
be  bound." 

"Indeed,  Tom,  now,"  pleaded  Arther,  "my  feet 
ain't  wet,  for  Martin  made  me  take  off  my  shoes  and 
stockings  and  trousers." 

"But  they  are  wet  and  dirty,  too — can't  I  see?" 
answered  Tom;  "  and  3'ou'll  be  called  up  and  floored 
when  the  master  sees  what  a  state  you're  in.  You 
haven't  looked  at  second  lesson,  you  know."  Oh  Tom, 
you  old  humbug !  you  to  be  upbraiding  any  one  with 
not  learning  their  lessons !  If  you  hadn't  been  floored 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  251 

yourself  now  at  first  lesson,  do  you  mean  to  say  you 
wouldn't  have  been  with  them  ?  and  you've  taken  away 
all  poor  little  Arthur's  joy  and  pride  in  his  first  birds' 
eggs ;  and  he  goes  and  puts  them  down  in  the  study, 
and  takes  down  his  books  with  a  sigh,  thinking  he  has 
done  something  horribly  wrong,  whereas  he  has 
learned  on  in  advance  much  more  than  will  be  done  at 
second  lesson. 

But  the  old  Madman  hasn't,  and  gets  called  up  and 
makes  some  frightful  shots,  losing  about  ten  places, 
and  all  but  getting  floored.  This  somewhat  appeases 
Tom's  wrath,  and  by  the  end  of  the  lesson  he  has  re- 
gained his  temper.  And  afterward,  in  their  study,  he 
begins  to  get  right  again,  as  he  watches  Arthur's  in- 
tense joy  at  seeing  Martin  blowing  the  eggs  and  glue- 
ing them  carefully  on  to  bits  of  cardboard,  and  notes 
the  anxious,  loving  looks  which  the  little  fellow  casts 
sidelong  at  him.  And  then  he  thinks,  "  what  an  ill- 
tempered  beast  I  am !  Here's  just- what  I  was  wish- 
ing for  last  night  come  about,  and  I'm  spoiling  it  all," 
and  in  another  five  minutes  has  swallowed  the  last 
mouthful  of  his  bile^  and  is  repaid  by  seeing  his  little 
sensitive-plant  expand  again,  and  sun  itself  in  his 
smiles. 

After  dinner  the  Madman  is  busy  with  the  prepara- 
tions for  their  expedition,  fitting  new  straps  on  to  his 
climbing  irons,  filling  large  pill-boxes  with  cotton  wool, 
and  sharpening  East's  small  ax.  They  carry  all  their 
munitions  into  calling-over,  and  directly  afterward 
having  dodged  such  praepostors  as  are  on  the  look-out 
for  fags  at  cricket,  the  four  set  off  at  a  smart  trot  down 
the  Lawford  footpath  straight  for  Caldecott's  Spinney 
and  the  hawk's  nest. 

Martin  leads  the  way  in  high  feather ;  it  is  quite  a 


252  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

new  sensation  to  him,  getting  com  pan  ions,  and  he  finds 
it  very  pleasant,  and  means  to  show  them  all  manner 
of  proofs  of  his  science  and  skill.  Brown  and  East  may 
be  better  at  cricket  and  football  and  games,  thinks  he, 
but  out  in  the  fields  and  woods  see  if  I  can't  teach  them 
something.  He  has  taken  the  leadership  already,  and 
strides  away  in  front  with  his  climbing-irons  strapped 
under  one  arm,  his  pecking  bag  under  the  other,  and 
his  pockets  and  hat  full  of  pill-boxes,  cotton  wool,  and 
other  etceteras.  Each  of  the  others  carries  a  pecking- 
bag,  and  East  his  hatchet. 

When  they  had  crossed  three  or  four  fields  without 
a  check,  Arthur  began  to  lag,  and  Tom  seeing  this 
shouted  to  Martin  to  pull  up  a  bit :  "  We  ain't  out 
hare-and-hounds — what's  the  gocd  of  grinding  on  at 
this  rate  ? " 

"  There's  the  Spinney,"  said  Martin,  pulling  up  on 
the  brow  of  a  slope  at  the  bottom  of  which  lay  Lawford 
brook,  and  pointing  to  the  top  of  the  opposite  slope  ; 
"  the  nest  is  in  one  of  those  high  fir-trees  at  this  end. 
And  down  by  the  brook  there,  I  know  of  a  sedge-bird's 
nest ;  we'll  go  and  look  at  it  coming  back." 

"  Oh,  come  on,  don't  let  us  stop,"  said  Arthur,  who 
was  getting  excited  at  the  sight  of  the  wood  ;  so  they 
broke  into  a  trot  again,  and  were  soon  across  the  brook, 
up  the  slope,  and  into  the  Spinney.  Here  they  advanced 
as  noiselessly  as  possible,  lest  keepers  or  other  enemies 
should  be  about,  and  stopped  at  the  foot  of  a  tall  fir, 
at  the  top  of  which  Martin  pointed  out  with  pride  the 
kestrel's  nest,  the  object  of  their  quest. 

"  Oh  where !  which  is  it?"  asks  Arthur,  gaping  up 
in  the  air,  and  having  the  most  vague  idea  of  what 
it  would  be  like. 

"  There,  don't  you   see  ? "   said  East,  pointing  to  a 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  253 

lump  of  misletoe  in  the  next  tree,  which  was  a  beech  : 
he  saw  that  Martin  and  Tom  were  busy  with  the 
climbing-irons,  and  couldn't  resist  the  temptation  of 
hoaxing.  Arthur  stared  and  wondered  more  than 
ever. 

"Well,  how  curious!  it  doesn't  look  a  bit  like  what 
I  expected,"  said  he. 

"  Very  odd  birds,  kestrels,"  said  East,  looking  wag- 
gishly at  his  victim,  who  was  still  star-gazing. 

"But  I  thought  it  was  in  a  fir-tree?"  objected 
Arthur. 

"  Ah,  don't  you  know  ?  that's  a  new  sort  of  fir, 
which  old  Caldecott  brought  from  the  Himalayas." 

"Keally!"  said  Arthur;  "I'm  glad  I  know  that — 
how  unlike  our  firs  they  are  !  They  do  very  well  too 
here,  don't  they  ?  the  Spinney's  full  of  them." 

"  What's  that  humbug  he's  telling  you  ? "  cried  Tom, 
looking  up,  having  caught  the  word  Himalayas,  and 
suspecting  what  East  was  after. 

"  Only  about  this  fir,"  said  Arthur,  putting  his  hand 
on  the  stem  of  the  beech. 

"  Fir ! "  shouted  Tom,  "  why,  you  don't  mean  to 
say,  young  'un,  you  don't  know  a  beech  when  you  see 
one?" 

Poor  little  Arthur  looked  terribly  ashamed,  and 
East  exploded  in  laughter  which  made  the  wood 
ring. 

"  I've  hardly  ever  seen  any  trees."  faltered  Arthur. 

"  What  a  shame  to  hoax  him,  Scud  !  "  cried  Martin. 
"  Never,  mind,  Arthur,  you  shall  know  more  about 
trees  than  he  does  in  a  week  or  two." 

"  And  isn't  that  the  kestrel's  nest,  then  ? "  asked 
Arthur. 

"That!  why,  that's  a  piece  of  mistletoe,  There's 
the  nest,  that  lump  of  sticks  up  this  fir," 


254  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Don't  believe  him,  Arthur,"  stuck  in  the  incor- 
rigible East;  "I  just  saw  an  old  magpie  go  out 
of  it." 

Martin  did  not  deign  to  reply  to  this  sally,  except  by 
a  grunt,  as  he  buckled  the  last  buckle  of  his  climbing- 
irons  ;  and  Arthur  looked  reproachfully  at  East  with- 
out speaking. 

But  now  came  the  tug  of  war.  It  was  a  very  diffi- 
cult tree  to  climb  until  the  branches  were  reached,  the 
first  of  which  was  some  fourteen  feet  up,  for  the  trunk 
was  too  large  at  the  bottom  to  be  swarmed ;  in  fact, 
neither  of  the  boys  could  reach  more  than  half  round 
it  with  their  arms.  Martin  and  Tom,  both  of  whom 
had  irons  on,  tried  it  without  success  at  first ;  the  fir 
bark  broke  away  where  they  stuck  the  irons  in  as 
soon  as  they  leaned  any  weight  on  their  feet,  and  the 
grip  of  their  arms  wasn't  enough  to  keep  them  up ;  so, 
after  getting  up  three  or  four  feet,  down  they  came 
slithering  to  the  ground,  barking  their  arms  and  faces. 
They  were  furious,  and  East  sat  by  laughing 
and  shouting  at  each  failure,  "  Two  to  one  on  the  old 
magpie ! " 

"We  must  try  a  pyramid,"  said  Tom  at  last. 
"  Now,  Scud,  you  lazy  rascal,  stick  yourself  against 
the  tree ! " 

"  I  dare  say !  and  have  you  standing  on  my  shoul- 
ders with  the  irons  on  :  what  do  you  think  my  skin's 
made  of  ?  "  However,  up  he  got,  and  leaned  against 
the  tree,  putting  his  head  down  and  clasping  it  with 
his  arms  as  far  as  he  could.  "  Now  then,  Madman," 
said  Tom,  "  you  next." 

"  No,  I'm  lighter  than  you  ;  you  go  next."  So  Tom 
got  on  East's  shoulders,  and  grasped  the  tree  above, 
and  then  Martin  scrambled  up  on  Tom's  shoulders, 


CLIMBING  THE  FIR-TREE  AFTER  THE  KESTREL'S  NEST. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS.  255 

amid  the  letterings  and  groanings  of  the  pyramid, 
and,  with  a  spring  which  sent  his  supporters  howling 
to  the  ground,  clasped  the  stem  some  ten  feet  up,  and 
remained  clinging.  For  a  moment  or  two  they 
thought  he  couldn't  get  up,  but  then,  holding  on  with 
arms  and  teeth,  he  worked  first  one  iron,  then  the 
other,  firmly  into  the  bark,  got  another  grip  with  his 
arms,  and  in  another  minute  had  hold  of  the  lowest 
branch. 

"All  up  with  the  old  magpie  now,"  said  East;  and, 
after  a  minute's  rest,  up  went  Martin,  hand  over 
hand,  watched  by  Arthur  with  fearful  eagerness. 

"  Isn't  it  very  dangerous  ?  "  said  he. 

"Not  a  bit,"  answered  Tom  :  "you can't  hurt  if  you 
only  get  good  hand-hold.  Try  every  branch  with  a 
good  pull  before  you  trust  it,  and  then  up  you  go." 

Martin  was  now  among  the  small  branches  close  to 
the  nest,  and  away  dashed  the  old  bird,  and  soared  up 
above  the  trees,  watching  the  intruder. 

"  All  right — four  eggs ! "  shouted  he. 

"Take  'em  all!"  shouted  East;  that'll  be  one 
apiece." 

"  No,  no !  leave  one,  and  then  she  won't  care,"  said 
Tom. 

We  boys  had  an  idea  that  birds  couldn't  count,  and 
were  quite  content  as  long  as  you  left  one  egg.  I  hope 
it  is  so. 

Martin  carefully  put  one  egg  into  each  of  his  boxes 
and  the  third  into  his  mouth,  the  only  other  place  of 
safety,  and  came  down  like  a  lamplighter.  All  went 
well  till  he  was  within  ten  feet  of  the  ground,  when,  as 
the  trunk  enlarged,  his  hold  got  less  and  less  firm,  and 
at  last  down  he  came  with  a  run,  tumbling  on  to  his 
back  on  the  turf,  spluttering  and  spitting  out  the 


256  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL 

remains  of  the  great  egg,  which  had  broken  by  the  jar 
of  his  fall. 

"  Ugh,  ugh — something  to  drink — ugh  !  it  was 
addled,"  spluttered  he,  while  the  wood  rang  again 
with  the  merry  laughter  of  East  and  Tom. 

Then  they  examined  the  prizes,  gathered  up  their 
things,  and  went  off  to  the  brook,  where  Martin  swal- 
lowed huge  draughts  of  water  to  get  rid  of  the  taste ; 
and  they  visited  the  sedge-bird's  nest,  and  from  thence 
struck  across  the  country  in  high  glee,  beating  the 
hedges  and  brakes  as  they  went  along ;  and  Arthur  at 
last,  to  his  intense  delight,  was  allowed  to  climb  a 
small  hedgerow  oak  for  a  magpie's  nest  with  Tom, 
who  kept  all  round  him  like  a  mother,  and  showed 
him  where  to  hold  and  how  to  throw  his  weight ;  and 
though  he  was  in  a  great  fright,  didn't  show  it ;  and 
was  applauded  by  all  for  his  lissomness. 

They  crossed  a  road  soon  afterward,  and  there  close 
to  them  lay  a  heap  of  charming  pebbles. 

"Look  here,"  shouted  East,  "here's  luck!  I've  been 
longing  for  some  good  honest  pecking  this  half  hour. 
Let's  fill  the  bags,  and  have  no  more  of  this  foozling 
bird's-nesting." 

No  one  objected,  so  each  boy  filled  the  fustian  bag 
he  carried  full  of  stones  :  they  crossed  into  the  next 
field,  Tom  and  East  taking  one  side  of  the  hedges,  and 
the  other  two  the  other  side.  Noise  enough  they  made 
certainly,  but  it  was  too  early  in  the  season  for  the 
young  birds,  and  the  old  birds  were  too  strong  on  the 
wing  for  our  young  marksmen,  and  flew  out  of  shot 
after  the  first  discharge.  But  it  was  great  fun,  rushing 
along  the  hedgerows,  and  discharging  stone  after  stono 
at  blackbirds  and  chaffinches,  though  no  result  in  the 
shape  of  slaughtered  birds  was  obtained ;  and  Arthur 


BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  25? 

soon  entered  into  it,  and  rushed  to  head  back  the  birds, 
and  shouted,  and  threw,  and  tumbled  into  ditches  and 
over  and  through  hedges,  as  wild  as  the  Madman 
himself. 

Presently  the  party,  in  full  cry  after  an  old  black- 
bird (who  was  evidently  used  to  the  thing  and  enjoyed 
the  fun,  for  he  would  wait  till  they  came  close  to  him 
and  then  fly  on  for  forty  yards  or  so,  and,  with  an  im- 
pudent flicker  of  his  tail,  dart  into  the  depths  of  the 
quickset),  came  beating  down  a  high  double  hedge, 
two  on  each  side. 

"There  he  is  again,"  "Head  him,"  "Let  drive," 
"I  had  him  there,"  "Take  care  where  you're  throwing, 
Madman;"  the  shouts  might  have  been  heard  a  quar- 
ter-of-a-mile  off.  They  were  heard  some  two  hundred 
yards  off  by  a  farmer  and  two  of  his  shepherds,  who 
were  doctoring  sheep  in  a  fold  in  the  next  field. 

Now,  the  farmer  in  question  rented  a  house  and 
yard  situate  at  the  end  of  the  field  in  which  the  young 
bird-fanciers  had  arrived,  which  house  and  yard  he 
didn't  occupy  or  keep  any  one  else  in.  Nevertheless, 
like  a  brainless  and  unreasoning  Briton,  he  persisted 
in  maintaining  on  the  premises  a  large  stock  of  cocks, 
hens,  and  other  poultry.  Of  course,  all  sorts  of  depre- 
dators visited  the  place  from  time  to  time;  foxes  and 
gypsies  wrought  havoc  in  the  night ;  while  in  the  day- 
time, I  regret  to  have  to  confess  that  visits  from  the 
Rugby  boys,  and  consequent  disappearances  of  ancient 
and  respectable  fowls,  were  not  unfrequent.  Tom  and 
East  had  during  the  period  of  their  outlawry  visited 
the  barn  in  question  for  felonious  purposes,  and  on  one 
occasion  had  conquered  and  slain  a  duck  there,  and 
borne  away  the  carcass  triumphantly,  hidden  in  their 
handkerchiefs.  However,  they  were  sickened  of  the 


258  TOM  BROWN'S  scfiooL 

practice  by  the  trouble  and  anxiety  which  the  wretched 
duck's  body  caused  them.  They  carried  it  to  Sally 
Harrowell's  in  hopes  of  a  good  supper ;  but  she,  after 
examining  it,  made  a  long  face,  and  refused  to  dress  or 
have  anything  to  do  with  it.  Then  they  took  it  into 
their  study,  and  began  plucking  it  themselves ;  but 
what  to  do  with  the  feathers — where  to  hide  them  ? 

"  Good  gracious,  Tom,  what  a  lot  of  feathers  a  duck 
has  !  "  groaned  East,  holding  a  bagful  in  his  hand,  and 
looking  disconsolately  at  the  carcass,  not  yet  half 
plucked. 

"  And  I  do  think  he's  getting  high,  too,  already," 
said  Tom,  smelling  at  him  cautiously,  "so  we  must 
finish  him  up  soon." 

"Yes,  all  very  well;  but  how  are  we  to  cook  him  ? 
I'm  sure  I  ain't  going  to  try  it  on  in  the  hall  or 
passages ;  we  can't  afford  to  be  roasting  ducks  about, 
our  character's  too  bad." 

"  I  wish  we  were  rid  of  the  brute,"  said  Tom,  throw- 
ing him  on  the  table  in  disgust.  And  after  a  day  or 
two  more  it  became  clear  that  got  rid  of  he  must  be ; 
so  they  packed  him  and  sealed  him  up  in  brown  paper, 
and  put  him  in  the  cupboard  of  an  unoccupied  study, 
where  he  was  found  in  the  holidays  by  the  matron,  a 
grewsome  body. 

They  had  never  been  duck-hunting  there  since,  but 
others  had,  and  the  bold  yeoman  was  very  sore  on  the 
subject,  and  bent  on  making  an  example  of  the  first 
boys  he  could  catch.  So  he  and  his  shepherds  crouched 
behind  the  hurdles,  and  watched  the  party,  who  wrere 
approaching  all  unconscious. 

Why  should  that  old  guinea-fowl  be  lying  out  in  the 
hedge  just  at  this  particular  moment  of  all  the  year  ? 
Who  can  say  ?  Guinea-fowls  always  are — so  are  all 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  259 

other  things,  animals,  and  persons,  requisite  for  getting 
one  into  scrapes,  always  ready  when  any  mischief  can. 
come  of  them.  At  any  rate,  just  under  East's  nose 
popped  out  the  old  guinea-hen,  scuttling  along  and 
shrieking  "  Come  back,  come  back,"  at  the  top  of  her 
voice.  Either  of  the  other  three  might  perhaps  have 
withstood  the  temptation,  but  East  first  lets  drive  the 
stone  he  has  in  his  hand  at  her,  and  then  rushes  to 
turn  her  into  the  hedge  again.  He  succeeds,  and  then 
they  are  all  at  it  for  dear  life,  up  and  down  the  hedge 
in  full  cry,  the  "Come  back,  come  back,"  getting  shril- 
ler and  fainter  every  minute. 

Meantime  the  farmer  and  his  men  steal  over  the 
hurdles  and  creep  down  the  hedge  toward  the  scene 
of  action.  They  are  almost  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
Martin,  who  is  pressing  the  unlucky  chase  hard,  when 
Tom  catches  sight  of  them,  and  sings  out,  "  Louts, 
'ware  louts,  your  side!  Madman,  look  ahead!"  and 
then  catching  hold  of  Arthur,  hurries  him  away  across 
the  field  toward  Rugby  as  hard  as  they  can  tear. 
Had  he  been  by  himself,  he  would  have  stayed  to  see  it 
out  with  the  others,  but  now  his  heart  sinks  and  all  his 
pluck  goes.  The  idea  of  being  led  up  to  the  doctor 
with  Arthur  for  bagging  fowls,  quite  unmans  and  takes 
half  the  run  out  of  him. 

However,  no  boys  are  more  able  to  take  care  of 
themselves  than  East  and  Martin  ;  they  dodge  the 
pursuers,  slip  through  a  gap,  and  come  pelting  after 
Tom  and  Arthur,  whom  they  catch  up  in  no  time;  the 
farmer  and  his  men  are  making  good  running  about  a 
field  behind.  Tom  wishes  to  himself  that  they  had 
made  off  in  any  other  direction,  but  now  they  are  all  in 
for  it  together,  and  must  see  it  out.  "  You  won't  leave 
the  young  'un,  will  you?"  says  he,  as  tbey  haul  poqp 


260  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

little  Arthur,  already  losing  wind  from  the  fright, 
through  the  next  hedge.  "Not  we,"  is  the  answer 
from  both.  The  next  hedge  is  a  stiff  one ;  the  pursuers 
gain  horribly  on  them,  and  they  only  just  pull  Arthur 
through,  with  two  great  rents  in  his  trousers,  as  the 
foremost  shepherd  comes  up  on  the  other  side.  As 
they  start  into  the  next  field,  they  are  aware  of  two 
figures  walking  down  the  footpath  in  the  middle  of  it, 
and  recognize  Holmes  and  Diggs  taking  a  constitu- 
tional. Those  good-natured  fellows  immediately  shout 
"On."  "Let's  go  to  them  and  surrender,"  pants 
Tom.  Agreed.  And  in  another  minute  the  four  boys, 
to  the  great  astonishment  of  those  worthies,  rush 
breathless  up  to  Holmes  and  Diggs,  who  pull  up  to  see 
what  is  the  matter ;  and  then  the  whole  is  explained 
by  the  appearance  of  the  farmer  and  his  men,  who 
unite  their  forces  and  bear  down  on  the  knot  of  boys. 

There  is  no  time  to  explain,  and  Tom's  heart  beats 
frightfully  quick,  as  he  ponders,  "  Will  they  stand  by 
us?" 

The  farmer  makes  a  rush  at  East  and  collars  him  ; 
and  that  young  gentleman,  with  unusual  discretion,  in- 
stead of  kicking  his  shins,  looks  appealingly  at  Holmes, 
and  stands  still. 

"Hullo  there,  not  so  fast,"  says  Holmes,  who  is 
bound  to  stand  up  for  them  till  they  are  proved  in  the 
wrong.  "Now  what's  all  this  about  ?  " 

"I've  got  the  young  varmint  at  last,  have  I,"  pants 
the  farmer;  "  why  they've  been  a  skulking  about  my 
yard  and  stealing  my  fowls,  that's  where  'tis ;  and  if  I 
doan't  have  they  flogged  for  it,  every  one  on  'em,  my 
name  ain't  Thompson." 

Holmes  looks  grave,  and  Diggs'  face  falls.  They  are 
quite  ready  to  fight,  no  boys  in  the  school  more  so ; 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  2Ct 

but  they  are  praepostors,  and  understand  their  office, 
and  can't  uphold  unrighteous  causes. 

"  I  haven't  been  near  his  old  barn  this  half,"  cries 
East.  "  Nor  I,"  "  Nor  I,"  chime  in  Tom  and  Martin. 

"  Now,  Willum,  didn't  you  see  'm  there  last  week?" 

"Ees,  I  seen  'em  sure  enough,"  says  Willum,  grasp- 
ing a  prong  he  carried,  and  preparing  for  action. 

The  boys  deny  stoutly,  and  Willum  is  driven  to 
admit  that,  "  if  it  worn't  they,  'twas  chaps  as  like  'em 
as  two  peas'n  ;  "  and  "  leastways  he'll  swear  he  see'd 
them  two  in  the  yard  last  Martinmas,"  indicating  East 
and  Tom. 

Holmes  had  time  to  meditate.  "  Now,  sir,"  says  he 
to  Willum,  "you  see  you  can't  remember  what  you 
have  seen,  and  I  believe  the  boys." 

"I  doan't  care,"  blusters  the  farmer;  "they  was 
arter  my  fowls  to-day,  that's  enough  for  I.  Willum, 
you  catch  hold  o'  t'other  chap.  They've  been  a  sneak- 
ing about  this  two  hours,  I  tells  'ee,"  shouted  he,  as 
Holmes  stands  between  Martin  and  Willum,  "  and 
have  druv  a  matter  of  a  dozen  young  pullets  pretty 
nigh  to  death." 

"  Oh,  there's  a  whacker !  "  cried  East ;  "  we  haven't 
been  within  a  hundred  yards  of  his  barn  ;  we  haven't 
been  up  here  above  ten  minutes,  and  we've  seen 
nothing  but  a  tough  old  guinea-hen,  who  ran  like  a 
greyhound." 

"  Indeed,  that's  all  true,  Holmes,  upon  my  honor," 
added  Tom  ;  "  we  weren't  after  his  fowls ;  the  guinea- 
hen  ran  out  of  the  hedge  under  our  feet,  and  we've 
seen  nothing  else." 

"  Drat  their  talk.  Thee  catch  hold  o'  t'other, 
Willum,  and  come  along  wi'  'un." 

"  Farmer  Thompson,"    said    Holmes,  warning    off 


xoii  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS. 

Willum  and  the  prong  with  his  stick,  while  Diggs 
faced  the  other  shepherd,  cracking  his  fingers  like 
pistol  shots,  "  now  listen  to  reason — the  boys  haven't 
been  after  your  fowls,  that's  plain." 

"  Tells  'ee  I  see'd  'em.  Who  be  you,  I  should  like 
to  know  ? " 

"Never  you  mind,  farmer,"  answers  Holmes. 
"  And  now  I'll  just  tell  you  what  it  is — you  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  yourself  for  leaving  all  that  poultry 
about,  with  no  one  to  watch  it,  so  near  the  school. 
You  deserve  to  have  it  all  stolen.  So  if  you  choose  to 
come  up  to  the  doctor  with  them,  I  shall  go  with 
you,  and  tell  him  what  I  think  of  it." 

The  farmer  began  to  take  Holmes  for  a  master ;  be- 
sides he  wanted  to  get  back  to  his  flock.  Corporal 
punishment  was  out  of  the  question,  the  odds  were  too 
great ;  so  he  began  to  hint  at  paying  for  the  damage. 
Arthur  jumped  at  this,  offering  to  pay  anything,  and 
the  farmer  immediately  valued  the  guinea-hen,  at  half- 
a-sovereign. 

"  Half-a-sovereign !  "  cried  East,  now  released  from 
the  farmer's  grip ;  "  well,  that  is  a  good  one  !  the  hen 
ain't  hurt  a  bit,  and  she's  seven  years  old,  I  know, 
and  as  tough  as  a  whipcord ;  she  couldn't  lay  another 
egg  to  save  her  life." 

It  was  at  last  settled  that  they  should  pay  the  farmer 
two  shillings,  and  his  man  one  shilling,  and  so  the 
matter  ended,  to  the  unspeakable  relief  of  Tom,  who 
hadn't  been  able  to  say  a  word,  being  sick  at  heart  at 
the  idea  of  what  the  doctor  would  think  of  him :  and 
now  the  whole  party  of  boys  marched  off  down  the 
footpath  toward  Rugby.  Holmes,  who  was  one  of  the 
best  boys  in  the  school,  began  to  improve  the  occasion. 
"Now,  you  youngsters,"  said  he,  as  he  marched  along 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  263 

in  the  middle  of  them,  "  mind  this ;  you're  very  well 
out  of  this  scrape.  Don't  you  go  near  Thompson's 
barn  again ;  do  you  hear  ?  " 

Profuse  promises  from  all,  especially  East. 

"Mind,  I  don't  ask  questions,"  went  on  Mentor, 
"  but  I  rather  think  some  of  you  have  been  there  be- 
fore this  after  his  chickens.  Now,  knocking  over 
other  people's  chickens,  and  running  off  with  them  is 
stealing.  It's  a  nasty  word,  but  that's  the  plain  English 
of  it.  If  the  chickens  were  dead  aud  lying  in  a  shop, 
you  wouldn't  take  them,  I  know  that,  any  more  than 
you  would  apples  out  of  Griffith's  basket ;  but  there's 
no  real  difference  between  chickens  running  about 
and  apples  on  a  tree,  and  the  same  articles  in  a  shop. 
I  wish  our  morals  were  sounder  in  such  matters. 
There's  nothing  so  mischievous  as  these  school  dis- 
tinctions, which  jumble  up  right  and  wrong,  and 
justify  things  in  us  for  which  poor  boys  would  be  sent 
to  prison."  And  good  old  Holmes  delivered  his  soul 
on  the  walk  home  of  many  wise  sayings,  and,  as  the 
song  says: 

"  Qee'd  'em  a  sight  of  good  advice," 

which  same  sermon  sank  into  them  all,  more  or  less, 
and  very  penitent  they  were  for  several  hours.  But 
truth  compels  me  to  admit  that  East  at  any  rate  for- 
got it  all  in  a  week,  but  remembered  the  insult  which 
had  been  put  upon  him  by  Farmer  Thompson,  and 
with  the  Tadpole  and  other  hair-brained  youngsters, 
committed  a  raid  on  the  barn  soon  afterward  in  which 
they  were  caught  by  the  shepherds  and  severely 
handled,  besides  having  to  pay  eight  shillings,  all  the 
money  they  had  in  the  world,  to  escape  being  taken  up 
to  the  doctor. 


S64  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Martin  became  a  constant  inmate  in  the  joint  study 
from  this  time,  and  Arthur  took  to  him  so  kindly,  that 
Tom  couldn't  resist  slight  fits  of  jealousy,  which,  how- 
ever, he  managed  to  keep  to  himself.  The  kestrel's 
eggs  had  not  been  broken,  strange  to  say,  and  formed 
the  nucleus  of  Arthur's  collection,  at  which  Martin 
worked  heart  and  soul ;  and  introduced  Arthur  to 
Hewlett  the  bird  fancier,  and  instructed  him  in  the 
rudiments  of  the  art  of  stuffing.  In  token  of  his  grati- 
tude, Arthur  allowed  Martin  to  tattoo  a  small  anchor 
on  one  of  his  wrists,  which  decoration,  however,  he 
carefully  concealed  from  Tom.  Before  the  end  of  the 
half  year  he  had  trained  into  a  bold  climber  and  good 
runner,  and,  as  Martin  had  foretold,  knew  twice  as 
much  about  trees,  birds,  flowers,  and  many  other 
things,  as  our  good-hearted  and  facetious  young  friend 
Harry  East. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  265 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   FIGHT. 

Surgebat  Macnevisius 
Et  mox  jactabat  ultro, 
Pugnabo  tua  gratia 
Feroci  hoc  Mactwoltro. " 

— Etonian. 

THERE  is  a  certain  sort  of  fellow — we  who  are  used 
to  studying  boys  all  know  him  well  enough — of  whom 
you  can  predicate  with  almost  positive  certainty,  after 
he  has  been  a  month  at  school,  that  he  is  sure  to  have 
a  fight,  and  with  almost  equal  certainty  that  he  will 
have  but  one.  Tom  Brown  was  one  of  these  ;  and  as 
it  is  our  well-weighed  intention  to  give  a  full,  true,  and 
correct  account  of  Tom's  only  single  combat  with  a 
school-fellow  in  the  manner  of  our  old  friend  BeWs 
Life,  let  those  young  persons  whose  stomachs  are  not 
strong,  or  who  think  a  good  set-to  with  the  weapons 
which  God  has  given  to  us  all,  an  uncivilized,  unchris- 
tian, or  ungentlemanly  affair,  just  skip  this  chapter  at 
once,  for  it  won't  be  to  their  taste. 

It  was  not  at  all  usual  in  those  days  for  two  school- 
house  boys  to  have  a  fight.  Of  course  there  were  ex- 
ceptions, when  some  cross-grained,  hard-headed  fellow 
came  up  who  would  never  be  happy  unless  he  was 
quarreling  with  his  nearest  neighbors,  or  when  there 
was  some  class-dispute  between  the  fifth-form  and  the 
fags  for  instance,  which  required  blood-letting ;  and  a 


260  TOM  BHOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

champion  was  picked  out  on  each  side  tacitly,  who 
settled  the  matter  by  a  good,  hearty  mill.  But  for  the 
most  part  the  constant  use  of  those  surest  keepers  of 
the  peace,  the  boxing-gloves,  kept  the  school-house 
boys  from  fighting  one  another.  Two  or  three  nights 
in  every  week  the  gloves  were  brought  out,  either  in 
the  hall  or  fifth-form  room  ;  and  every  boy  who  was 
ever  likely  to  fight  at  all,  knew  all  his  neighbors' 
prowess  perfectly  well,  and  could  tell  to  a  nicety  what 
chance  he  would  have  in  a  stand-up  fight  with  any 
other  boy  in  the  house.  But  of  course  no  such  ex- 
perience could  be  gotten  as  regarded  boys  in  other 
•houses;  and  as  most  of  the  other  houses  were  more 
or  less  jealous  of  the  school-house,  collisions  were 
frequent. 

After  all,  what  would  life  be  without  fighting,  I 
should  like  to  know  ?  From  the  cradle  to  the  grave, 
fighting,  rightly  understood,  is  the  business,  the  real, 
highest,  honestest  business  of  every  son  of  man.  Every 
one  who  is  worth  his  salt  has  his  enemies,  who  must  be 
beaten,  be  they  evil  thoughts  and  habits  in  himself,  or 
spiritual  wickedness  in  high  places,  or  Russians,  or 
border-ruffians,  or  Bill,  Tom,  or  Harry,  who  will  not 
let  him  live  his  life  in  quiet  till  he  has  thrashed  them. 

It  is  no  good  for  Quakers,  or  any  other  body  of  men 
to  uplift  their  voices  against  fighting.  Human  nature 
is  too  strong  for  them,  and  they  don't  follow  their  own 
precepts.  Every  soul  of  them  is  doing  his  own  piece 
of  fighting,  somehow  and  somewhere.  The  world 
might  be  a  better  world  without  fighting,  for  anything 
I  know,  but  it  wouldn't  be  our  world  ;  and  therefore  I 
am  dead  against  crying  peace  when  there  is  no  peace, 
and  isn't  meant  to  be.  I  am  as  sorry  as  any  man  to 
see  folk  fighting  the  wrong  people  and  the  wrong 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  26? 

things,  but  I'd  a  deal  sooner  see  them  doing  that,  than 
that  they  should  have  no  fight  in  them.  So  having  re- 
corded, and  being  about  to  record,  my  hero's  fights  of 
all  sorts,  with  all  sorts  of  enemies,  I  shall  now  proceed 
to  give  an  account  of  his  passage-at-arms  with  the  only 
one  of  his  school-fellows  whom  he  ever  had  to  encoun- 
ter in  this  manner. 

It  was  drawing  toward  the  close  of  Arthur's  first 
half-year,  and  the  May  evenings  were  lengthening  out. 
Locking-up  was  not  till  eight  o'clock,  and  everybody 
was  beginning  to  talk  about  what  he  would  do  in  the 
holidays.  The  shell,  in  which  form  all  our  dramatis 
personce  now  are,  were  reading  among  other  things 
the  last  book  of  "  Homer's  Iliad,"  and  had  worked 
through  it  as  far  as  the  speeches  of  the  women  over 
Hector's  body.  It  is  a  whole  school-day,  and  four  or 
five  of  the  school-house  boys  (among  whom  are  Arthur, 
Tom  and  East)  are  preparing  third  lesson  together. 
They  have  finished  the  regulation  forty  lines,  and  are 
for  the  most  part  getting  very  tired,  notwithstanding 
the  exquisite  pathos  of  Helen's  lamentation.  And  now 
several  long  four-syllabled  words  come  together,  and 
the  boy  with  the  dictionary  strikes  work. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  look  out  any  more  words,"  says 
he  ;  "  we've  done  the  quantity.  Ten  to  one  we  shan't 
get  so  far.  Let's  go  out  into  the  close." 

"Come  along,  boys,"  cries  East,  always  ready  to 
leave  the  grind,  as  he  called  it ;  "  our  old  coach  is  laid 
up,  you  know,  and  we  shall  have  one  of  the  new  mas- 
ters, who's  sure  to  go  slow  and  let  us  down  easy." 

So  an  adjournment  to  the  close  was  carried  nem. 
con.,  little  Arthur  not  daring  to  uplift  his  voice ;  but, 
being  deeply  interested  in  what  they  were  reading, 
stayed  quietly  behind,  and  learned  on  for  his  own 
pleasure. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

As  East  had  said,  the  regular  master  of  the  form 
was  unwell,  and  they  were  to  be  heard  by  one  of  the 
new  masters,  quite  a  young  man,  who  had  only  just 
left  the  university.  Certainly  it  would  be  hard  lines, 
if,  by  dawdling  as  much  as  possible  in  coming  in  and 
taking  their  places,  entering  into  long-winded  explana- 
tions of  what  was  the  usual  course  of  the  regular  master 
of  the  form,  and  others  of  the  stock  contrivances  of 
boys  for  wasting  time  in  school,  they  could  not  spin 
out  the  lesson  so  that  he  should  not  work  them  through 
more  than  the  forty  lines;  as  to  which  quantity  there 
was  a  perpetual  fight  going  on  between  the  master  and 
his  form,  the  latter  insisting,  and  enforcing  by  passive 
resistance,  that  it  was  the  prescribed  quantity  of  Homer 
for  a  shell  lesson,  the  former  that  there  was  no  fixed 
quantity,  but  that  they  must  always  be  ready  to  go  on 
to  fifty  or  sixty  lines  if  there  were  time  within  the 
hour.  However,  notwithstanding  all  their  efforts,  the 
new  master  got  on  horribly  quick ;  he  seemed  to  have 
the  bad  taste  to  be  really  interested  in  the  lesson,  and 
to  be  trying  to  work  them  up  into  something  like  ap- 
preciation of  it,  giving  them  good  spirited  English 
words,  instead  of  the  wretched  bald  stuff  into  which 
they  rendered  poor  old  Homer ;  and  construing  over 
each  piece  himself  to  them,  after  each  boy,  to  show 
them  how  it  should  be  done. 

Now  the  clock  strikes  the  three  quarters ;  there  is 
only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more ;  but  the  forty  lines 
are  all  but  done.  So  the  boys,  one  after  another,  who 
are  called  up,  stick  more  and  more,  and  make  balder 
and  ever  more  bald  work  of  it.  The  poor  young 
master  is  pretty  near  beat  by  this  time,  and  feels 
ready  to  knock  his  head  against  the  wall,  or  his 
fingers  against  somebody  else's  head.  So  he  gives  up 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  269 

altogether  the  lower  and  middle  parts  of  the  form, 
and  looks  round  in  despair  at  the  boys  on  the  top  bench 
to  see  if  there  is  one  out  of  whom  he  can  strike  a 
spark  or  two,  and  who  will  be  too  chivalrous  to  mur- 
der the  most  beautiful  utterances  of  the  most  beautiful 
woman  of  the  old  world.  I]  is  eye  rests  on  Arthur, 
and  he  calls  him  up  to  finish  construing  Helen's  speech. 
Whereupon  all  the  other  boys  draw  long  breaths,  and 
begin  to  stare  about  and  take  it  easy.  They  are  all 
safe  ;  Arthur  is  the  head  of  the  form,  and  sure  to  be 
able  to  construe,  and  that  will  tide  on  safely  till  the 
hour  strikes. 

Arthur  proceeds  to  read  out  the  passage  in  Greek 
before  construing  it,  as  the  custom  is.  Tom,  who  isn't 
paying  much  attention,  is  suddenly  caught  by  the  falter 
in  his  voice  as  he  reads  the  two  lines : 

aA/ld  tiv  TOV  y}  iitEEtitii  ftapaKpajtevo?  HarepvKE?, 
2fi  zj  dyavoqtpotivvy  nal  doiG  dyavdlS  iiteetifay. 

He  looks  up  at  Arthur.  "  Why,  bless  us,"  thinks  he, 
"  what  can  be  the  matter  with  the  young  'un  ?  He's 
never  going  to  get  floored.  He's  sure  to  have  learned 
to  the  end."  Next  moment  he  is  reassured  by  the 
spirited  tone  in  which  Arthur  begins  construing,  and 
betakes  himself  to  drawing  dogs'  heads  in  his  note- 
book, while  the  master  evidently  enjoying  the  change, 
turns  his  back  on  the  middle  bench  and  stands  before 
Arthur,  beating  a  sort  of  time  with  his  hand  and  foot 
and  saying  "  Yes,  yes,"  "  very  well,"  as  Arthur  goes 
on. 

But  as  he  nears  the  fatal  two  lines,  Tom  catches  that 
falter"  and  again  looks  up.  He  sees  that  there  is  some- 
thing the  matter — Arthur  can  hardly  get  on  at  all. 
What  can  it  be  ? 


270  TOM  BROWH'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Suddenly  at  this  point  Arthur  breaks  down  alto- 
gether, and  fairly  bursts  out  crying,  and  dashes  the 
cuff  of  his  jacket  across  his  eyes,  blushing  up  to  the 
roots  of  his  hair,  and  feeling  as  if  he  should  like  to  go 
down  suddenly  through  the  floor.  The  whole  form  are 
taken  aback ;  most  of  them  stare  stupidly  at  him,  while 
those  who  are  gifted  with  presence  of  mind  find  their 
places  and  look  steadily  at  their  books,  in  hopes  of  not 
catching  the  master's  eye  and  getting  called  up  in 
Arthur's  place. 

The  master  looks  puzzled  for  a  moment,  and  then 
seeing,  as  the  fact  is,  that  the  boy  is  really  affected  to 
tears  by  the  most  touching  thing  in  Homer,  perhaps  in 
all  profane  poetry  put  together,  steps  up  to  him  and 
lays  his  hand  kindly  on  his  shoulder,  saying,  "  Never 
mind,  my  little  man,  you've  construed  very  well. 
Stop  a  minute,  there's  no  hurry." 

Now,  as  luck  would  have  it,  there  sat  next  above 
Tom  that  day,  in  the  middle  bench  of  the  form,  a  big 
boy,  by  name  Williams,  generally  supposed  to  be  the 
cock  of  the  shell,  therefore,  of  all  the  school  below  the 
fifths.  The  small  boys,  who  are  great  speculators  on 
the  prowess  of  their  elders,  used  to  hold  forth  to  one 
another  about  Williams'  great  strength,  and  to  discuss 
whether  East  or  Brown  would  take  a  licking  from 
him.  He  was  called  Slogger  Williams,  from  the  force 
with  which  it  was  supposed  he  could  hit.  In  the  main, 
he  was  a  rough,  good-natured  fellow  enough,  but  very 
much  alive  to  his  own  dignity.  lie  reckoned  himself 
the  king  of  the  form,  and  kept  up  his  position  with  a 
strong  hand,  especially  in  the  matter  of  forcing  boys 
not  to  construe  more  than  the  legitimate  forty  lines. 
He  had  already  grunted  and  grumbled  to  himself 
when  Arthur  went  on  reading  beyond  the  forty  lines, 


Toil  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  %n 

But  now  that  he  had  broken  down  just  in  the  middle 
of  all  the  long  words,  the  slogger's  wrath  was  fairly 
roused. 

"  Sneaking  little  brute,"  muttered  he,  regardless  of 
prudence,  "  clapping  on  the  waterworks  just  in  the 
hardest  place;  see  if  I  don't  punch  his  head  after 
fourth  lesson." 

"Whose?"  said  Tom,  to  whom  the  remark  seemed 
be  addressed. 

"  Why,  that  little  sneak,  Arthur's,"  replied  Williams. 

"  No,  you  shan't,"  said  Tom. 

" Hullo! "  exclaimed  Williams,  looking  at  Tom  with 
great  surprise  for  a  moment,  and  then  giving  him  a 
sudden  dig  in  the  ribs  with  his  elbow,  which  sent  Tom's 
books  flying  on  the  floor,  and  called  the  attention  of 
the  master,  who  turned  suddenly  round,  and  seeing 
the  state  of  things,  said  : 

"Williams,  go  down  three  places,  and  then  go  on." 

The  slogger  found  his  legs  very  slowly,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  go  below  Tom  and  two  other  boys  with 
great  disgust,  and  then  turning  round  and  facing  the 
master,  said,  "  I  haven't  learned  any  more,  sir  ;  our  les- 
son is  only  forty  lines." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  said  the  master,  appealing  generally 
to  the  top  bench.  ~No  answer. 

"  Who  is  the  head  boy  of  the  form  ? "  said  he,  wax- 
ing wroth. 

"Arthur,  sir,"  answered  three  or  four  boys,  indica- 
ting our  friend. 

"  Oh,  your  name's  Arthur.  Well  now,  what  is  the 
length  of  your  regular  lesson  ? " 

Arthur  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said, "  We  call 
it  only  forty  lines,  sir." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  you  call  it  ? " 


IOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Well,  sir,  Mr.  Graham  says  we  ain't  to  stop  there, 
when  there's  time  to  construe  more." 

"I  understand,"  said  the  master.  "Williams,  go 
down  three  more  places,  and  write  me  out  the  lesson 
in  Greek  and  English.  And  now,  Arthur,  finish  con- 
struing." 

"  Oh !  would  I  be  in  Arthur's  shoes  after  fourth 
lesson?"  said  the  little  boys  to  one  another;  but 
Arthur  finished  Helen's  speech  without  any  further 
catastrophe,  and  the  clock  struck  four,  which  ended 
third  lesson. 

Another  hour  was  occupied  in  preparing  and  saying 
fourth  lesson,  during  which  Williams  was  bottling 
up  his  wrath ;  and  when  five  struck,  and  the 
lessons  for  the  day  were  over,  he  prepared  to  take 
summary  vengeance  on  the  innocent  cause  of  his  mis- 
fortune. 

Tom  was  detained  in  school  a  few  minutes  after  the 
rest,  and  on  coming  out  into  the  quadrangle,  the  first 
thing  he  saw  was  a  small  ring  of  boys,  applauding 
Williams,  who  was  holding  Arthur  by  the  collar. 

"There,  you  young  sneak,"  said  he,  giving  Arthur 
a  cuff  on  the  head  with  his  other  hand,  "  what  made 
you  say  that — 

"  Hullo ! "  said  Tom,  shouldering  into  the  crowd, 
"you  drop  that,  Williams  ;  you  sha'n't  touch  him." 

"  Who'll  stop  me  ? "  said  the  slogger,  raising  his 
hand  again, 

"  I,"  said  Tom  ;  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
struck  the  arm  which  held  Arthur's  arm  so  sharply, 
that  the  slogger  dropped  it  with  a  start,  and  turned 
the  full  current  of  his  wrath  on  Tom. 

"  Will  you  fight  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course." 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOT,  DATS.  2*3 

"  Huzza,  there's  going  to  be  a  fight  between  Slogger 
Williams  and  Tom  Brown !  " 

The  news  ran  like  wild-fire  about,  and  many  boys 
\vho  were  on  their  way  to  tea  at  their  several  houses 
turned  back,  and  sought  the  back  of  the  chapel,  where 
the  fights  come  off. 

"  Just  run  and  tell  East  to  come  and  back  me,"  said 
Tom  to  a  small  school-house  boy,  who  was  off  like  a 
rocket  to  Harrowell's,  just  stopping  for  a  moment  to 
poke  his  head  into  the  school-house  hall,  where  the 
lower  boys  were  already  at  tea,  and  sing  out,  "  Fight ! 
Tom  Brown  and  Slogger  Williams." 

Up  start  half  the  boys  at  once,  leaving  bread,  eggs, 
butter,  sprats,  and  all  the  rest  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves. The  greater  part  of  the  remainder  follow  in  a 
minute,  after  swallowing  their  tea,  carrying  their  food 
in  their  hands  to  consume  as  they  go.  Three  or  four 
only  remain,  who  steal  the  butter  of  the  more  impetu- 
ous, and  make  to  themselves  an  unctuous  feast. 

In  another  minute  East  and  Martin  tear  through 
the  quadrangle  carrying  a  sponge,  and  arrive  at 
the  scene  of  action  just  as  the  combatants  are  begin- 
ning to  strip. 

Tom  felt  he  had  got  his  work  cut  out  for  him,  as  he 
stripped  off  his  jacket,  waistcoat,  and  braces.  East 
tied  his  handkerchief  round  his  waist,  and  rolled  up 
his  shirt-sleeves  for  him  :  "  Now,  old  boy,  don't  you  open 
your  mouth  to  say  a  word,  or  try  to  help  yourself  a 
bit,  we'll  do  all  that ;  you  keep  all  your  breath  and 
strength  for  the  slogger."  Martin  meanwhile  folded 
the  clothes,  and  put  them  under  the  chapel  rails ;  and 
now  Tom,  with  East  to  handle  him  and  Martin  to 
give  him  a  knee,  steps  out  on  the  turf,  and  is  ready 
for  all  that  may  come:  and  here  is  the  slogger  too, 
all  stripped,  and  thirsting  for  the  fray. 


2?4  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  CAYS. 

It  doesn't  look  a  fair  match  at  first  glance:  Will- 
iams is  nearly  two  inches  taller,  and  probably  a  long 
year  older  than  his  opponent,  and  he  is  very  strongly 
made  about  the  arms  and  shoulders ;  "  peels  well,"  as 
the  little  knot  of  big  fifth-form  boys,  the  amateurs, 
say  ;  who  stand  outside  the  ring  of  little  boys,  looking 
complacently  on,  but  taking  no  active  part  in  the  pro- 
ceedings. But  down  below  he  is  not  so  good  by  any 
means  ;  no  spring  from  the  loins,  and  feebleish,  not  to 
say  shipwrecky,  about  the  knees.  Tom,  on  the  con- 
trary, though  not  half  so  strong  in  the  arms,  is  good 
all  over,  straight,  hard,  and  springy  from  neck  to 
ankle,  better  perhaps  in  his  legs  than  anywhere. 
Besides,  you  can  see  by  the  clear  white  of  his  eye  and 
fresh  bright  look  of  his  skin,  that  he  is  in  tip-top 
training,  able  to  do  all  he  knows ;  while  the  slogger 
looks  rather  sodden,  as  if  he  didn't  take  much  exer- 
cise and  ate  too  much  tuck.  The  time-keeper  is 
chosen,  a  large  ring  made,  and  the  two  stand  up 
opposite  one  another  for  a  moment,  giving  us  time 
just  to  make  our  little  observations. 

"  If  Tom'll  only  condescend  to  fight  with  his  head 
and  heels,"  as  East  mutters  to  Martin,  "  we  shall  do." 

But  seemingly  he  won't,  for  there  he  goes  in,  making 
play  with  both  hands.  Hard  all,  is  the  word ;  the  two 
stand  to  one  another  like  men ;  rally  follows  rally  in 
quick  succession,  each  fighting  as  if  he  thought  to  finish 
the  whole  thing  out  of  hand.  "  Can't  last  at  this  rate," 
say  the  knowing  ones,  while  the  partisans  of  each  make 
the  air  ring  with  their  shouts  and  counter-shouts,  of 
encouragement,  approval  and  defiance. 

"  Take  it  easy,  take  it  easy — keep  away,  let  him  come 
after  you,"  implores  East,  as  he  wipes  Tom's  face  after 
the  first  round  with  wet  sponge,  while  he  sits  back  on 


TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  275 

Martin's  knee,  supported  by  the  Madman's  long  arms, 
which  tremble  a  little  from  excitement. 

"Time's  up,"  calls  the  time-keeper. 

"  There  he  goes  again,  hang  it  all !  "  growls  East  as 
his  man  is  at  it  again  as  hard  as  ever.  A  very  severe 
round  follows,  in  which  Tom  gets  out  and  out  the 
worst  of  it,  and  is  at  last  hit  clean  off  his  legs,  and 
deposited  on  the  grass  by  a  right-hander  from  the 
slogger. 

Loud  shouts  rise  from  the  boys  of  slogger's  house, 
and  the  school-house  are  silent  and  vicious,  ready  to 
pick  quarrels  anywhere. 

"  Two  to  one  in  half-crowns  on  the  big  'un,"  says 
Rattle,  one  of  the  amateurs,  a  tall  fellow,  in  thunder- 
and-lightning  waistcoat,  and  puffy,  good-natured  face. 

"Done!"  says  Groove,  another  amateur  of  quieter 
look,  taking  out  his  note-book  to  enter  it — for  our  friend 
Rattle  sometimes  forgets  these  little  things. 

Meantime  East  is  freshening  up  Tom  with  the 
sponges  for  next  round,  and  has  set  two  other  boys  to 
rub  his  hands. 

"Tom,  old  boy,"  whispers  he,  "this  may  be  fun  for 
you,  but  it's  death  to  me.  He'll  hit  all  the  fight  out  of 
you  in  another  five  minutes,  and  then  I  shall  go  and 
drown  myself  in  the  island  ditch.  Feint  him — use  your 
legs !  draw  him  about !  he'll  lose  his  wind  then  in  no 
time,  and  you  can  go  into  him.  Hit  at  his  body  too, 
we'll  take  care  of  his  frontispiece  by  and  by." 

Tom  felt  the  wisdom  of  the  counsel,  and  saw  already 
that  he  couldn't  go  in  and  finish  the  slogger  off  at 
mere  hammer  and  tongs,  so  changed  his  tactics  com- 
pletely in  the  third  round.  He  now  fights  cautious, 
getting  away  from  and  parrying  the  slogger's  lunging 
hits,  instead  of  trying  to  counter,  and  leading  his  enemy 


276  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

a  dance  all  round  the  ring  after  him.  "  He's  funking ; 
go  in,  Williams,"  "  Catch  him  up,"  "Finish  him  off," 
scream  the  small  boys  of  the  slogger  party. 

"Just  Avhat  we  wrant,"  thinks  East,  chuckling  to 
himself,  as  he  sees  Williams,  excited  by  these  shouts 
and  thinking  the  game  in  his  own  hands,  blowing  him- 
self in  his  exertions  to  get  to  close  quarters  again,  while 
Tom  is  keeping  away  with  perfect  ease. 

They  quarter  over  the  ground  again  and  again,  Tom 
always  on  the  defensive. 

The  slogger  pulls  up  at  last  for  a  moment,  fairly 
blown. 

"Now  then,  Tom,"  sings  out  East,  dancing  with 
delight.  Tom  goes  in  in  a  twinkling,  and  hits  two 
heavy  body  blows,  and  gets  away  again  before  the 
slogger  can  catch  his  wind;  which  when  he  does  he 
rushes  with  blind  fury  at  Tom,  and  being  skillfully 
parried  and  avoided,  over-reaches  himself  and  falls  on 
his  face,  amid  terrific  cheers  from  the  school-house 
boys. 

"  Double  your  two  to  one  ?  "  says  Groove  to  Rattle, 
note-book  in  hand. 

"  Stop  a  bit,"  says  that  hero,  looking  uncomfort- 
ably at  Williams,  who  is  puffing  away  on  his  second's 
knee,  winded  enough,  but  little  the  worse  in  any  other 
way. 

After  another  round  the  slogger  too  seems  to  see 
that  he  can't  go  in  and  win  right  off,  and  has  met  his 
match  or  thereabouts.  So  he  too  begins  to  use  his  head 
and  tries  to  make  Tom  lose  patience  and  come  in  before 
his  time.  And  so  the  fight  sways  on,  now  one,  and 
now  the  other,  getting  a  trifling  pull. 

Tom's  face  begins  to  look  very  one-sided — there  are 
little  queer  bumps  on  his  forehead,  ancj  Jiis  mouth  is 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  277 

bleeding;  but  East  keeps  the  wet  sponge  going  so 
scientifically,  that  he  comes  up  looking  as  fresh  and 
bright  as  ever.  Williams  is  only  slightly  marked  in 
the  face,  but  by  the  nervous  movement  of  his  elbows 
you  can  see  that  Tom's  body  blows  are  telling.  In 
fact,  half  the  vice  of  the  slogger's  hitting  is  neutral- 
ized, for  he  daren't  lunge  out  freely  for  fear  of  ex- 
posing his  sides.  It  is  too  interesting  by  this  time 
for  much  shouting,  and  the  whole  ring  is  very 
quiet. 

"  All  right,  Tommy,"  whispers  East ;  "  hold  on's  the 
horse  that's  to  win.  We've  got  the  last.  Keep  your 
head,  old  boy." 

But  where  is  Arthur  all  this  time  ?  Words  cannot 
paint  the  poor  little  fellow's  distress.  He  couldn't 
muster  courage  to  come  up  to  the  ring,  but  wandered 
up  and  down  from  the  great  fives' -court  to  the  corner 
of  the  chapel  rails.  Now  trying  to  make  up  his 
mind  to  throw  himself  between  them,  and  try  to 
stop  them  ;  then  thinking  of  running  in  and  telling 
his  friend  Mary,  who  he  knew  would  instantly  report 
it  to  the  doctor.  The  stories  he  had  heard  of  men 
being  killed  in  prize-fights  rose  up  horribly  before 
him. 

Once  only,  when  the  shouts  of  "Well  done,  Brown  ! " 
"  Huzza  for  the  school-house  ! "  rose  higher  than  ever, 
he  ventured  up  to  the  ring,  thinking  the  victory  was 
won.  Catching  sight  of  Tom's  face  in  the  state  I 
have  described,  all  fear  of  consequences  vanishing  out 
of  his  mind,  he  rushed  straight  off  to  the  matron's 
room,  beseeching  her  to  get  the  fight  stopped,  or  he 
should  die. 

But  it's  time  for  us  to  get  back  to  the  close.  What 
is  this  fierce  tumult  and  confusion '(  The  ring  is 


2?S  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

broken,  and  high  and  angry  words  are  being  bandied 
about ;  "  It's  all  fair,"—"  It  isn't "— "  No  hugging  ; " 
the  fight  is  stopped.  The  combatants,  however,  sit 
there  quietly,  tended  by  their  seconds,  while  their 
adherents  wrangle  in  the  middle.  East  can't  help 
shouting  challenges  to  two  or  three  of  the  other  side, 
though  he  never  leaves  Tom  for  a  moment,  and  plies 
the  sponges  as  fast  as  ever. 

The  fact  is,  that  at  the  end  of  the  last  round,  Tom 
seeing  a  good  opening,  had  closed  with  his  opponent, 
and  after  a  moment's  struggle  had  thrown  him  heavily, 
by  the  help  of  the  fall  he  had  learned  from  his  village 
rival  in  the  vale  of  White  Horse.  Williams  hadn't  the 
the  ghost  of  a  chance  with  Tom  at  wrestling;  and  the 
conviction  broke  at  once  on  the  slogger  faction,  that  if 
this  were  allowed  their  man  must  be  licked.  There 
was  a  strong  feeling  in  the  school  against  catching 
hold  and  throwing,  though  it  was  generally  ruled  all 
fair  within  certain  limits  ;  so  the  ring  was  broken  and 
the  fight  stopped. 

The  school-house  are  over-ruled — the  fight  is  on 
again,  but  there  is  to  be  no  throwing  ;  and  East  in  high 
wrath  threatens  to  take  his  man  away  after  next 
round  (which  he  don't  mean  to  do,  by  the  way),  when 
suddenly  young  Brooke  comes  through  the  small 
gate  at  the  end  of  the  chapel.  The  school-house 
faction  rush  to  him.  "  Oh,  hurra !  now  we  shall  get 
fair  play." 

"Please,  Brooke,  come  up,  they  won't  let  Tom  Brown 
throw  him." 

"  Throw  whom  ? "  says  Brooke,  coming  up  to  the 
ring.  "  Oh !  Williams,  I  see.  Nonsense !  of  course 
he  may  throw  him  if  he  catches  him  fairly  above  the 
waist." 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  279 

Now,  young  Brooke,  you're  in  the  sixth,  you  know, 
and  you  ought  to  stop  all  fights.  He  looks  hard  at 
both  boys.  "Anything  wrong?"  says  he  to  East, 
nodding  at  Tom. 

"  Not  a  bit." 

"Not  beat  at  all?" 

"Bless  you,  no !  heaps  of  fight  in  him.  Ain't  there, 
Tom  ? " 

Tom  looks  at  Brooke  and  grins. 

"  How's  he  ?  "  nodding  at  Williams. 

"  So,  so ;  rather  done,  I  think,  since  his  last  fall. 
He  won't  stand  above  two  more." 

"  Time's-up ! "  the  boys  rise  again  and  face  one 
another.  Brooke  can't  find  it  in  his  heart  to  stop 
them  just  yet,  so  the  round  goes  on,  the  slogger  wait- 
ing for  Tom,  and  reserving  all  his  strength  to  hit  him 
out  should  he  come  in  for  the  wrestling  dodge  again, 
for  he  feels  that  that  must  be  stopped,  or  his  sponge 
will  soon  go  up  in  the  air. 

And  now  another  new  comer  appears  on  the  field,  to- 
wit,  the  under-porter,  with  his  long  brush  and  great 
wooden  receptable  for  dust  under  his  arm.  He  has 
been  sweeping  out  the  schools. 

"You'd  better  stop,  gentlemen,"  he  says;  "the 
doctor  knows  that  Brown's  fighting — he'll  be  out  in 
a  minute." 

"  You  go  to  Bath,  Bill,"  is  all  that  that  excellent 
servitor  gets  by  his  advice.  And  being  a  man  of  his 
hands,  and  a  stanch  upholder  of  the  school-house, 
can't  help  stopping  to  look  on  for  a  bit,  and  see  Tom 
Brown,  their  pet  craftsman,  fight  a  round. 

It  is  grim  earnest  now,  and  no  mistake.  Both  boys 
feel  this,  and  summon  every  power  of  head,  hand,  and 
eye  to  their  aid,  A  piece  of  luck  on  either  side,  a  foot 


280  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

slipping,  a  blow  getting  well  home,  or  another  fall, 
may  decide  it.  Tom  works  slowly  round  for  an  open- 
ing ;  he  has  all  the  legs,  and  can  choose  his  own  time  : 
the  slogger  waits  for  the  attack,  and  hopes  to  finish  it 
by  some  heavy  right-handed  blow.  As  they  quarter 
slowly  over  the  ground,  the  evening  sun  comes  out 
from  behind  a  cloud  and  falls  full  on  Willaims'  face. 
Tom  starts  in  ;  the  heavy  right  hand  is  delivered,  but 
only  grazes  his  head.  A  short  rally  at  close  quarters, 
and  they  close :  in  another  moment  the  slogger  is 
thrown  again  heavily  for  the  third  time. 

"I'll  give  you  three  to  two  on  the  little  one  in  half- 
crowns,"  said  Groove  to  Rattle. 

"No,  thank  'ee,"  answers  the  other, diving  his  hands 
further  into  his  coat-tails. 

Just  at  this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  the  door  of  the 
turret  which  leads  to  the  doctor's  library  suddenly 
opens,  and  he  steps  into  the  close,  and  makes  straight 
for  the  ring,  in  which  Brown  and  the  slogger  are  both 
seated  on  their  seconds'  knees  for  the  last  time. 

"The  doctor!  the  doctor!"  shouts  some  small  boy 
who  catches  sight  of  him,  and  the  ring  melts  away  in 
a  few  seconds,  the  small  boys  tearing  off,  Tom  collaring 
his  jacket  and  waistcoat,  and  slipping  through  the  little 
gate  by  the  chapel,  and  round  the  corner  to  Harro- 
well's  with  his  backers,  as  lively  as  need  be  ;  Williams 
and  his  backers  making  off  not  quite  so  fast  across  the 
close ;  Groove,  Rattle  and  the  other  bigger  fellows  try- 
ing to  combine  dignity  and  prudence  in  a  comical 
manner,  and  walking  off  fast  enough,  they  hope,  not 
to  be  recognized,  and  not  fast  enough  to  look  like  run- 
ning away. 

Young  Brooke  alone  remains  on  the  ground  by  the 
time  the  doctor  gets  there,  and  touches  his  hat,  not 
without  a  slight  inward  qualm. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  COUNSEL  TO  YOUNG  BROOKE. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  SSI 

"Hah!  Brooke.  I  am  surpaised  to  see  you  here. 
Don't  you  know  that  I  expect  the  sixth  to  stop  fight- 
ing?" 

Brooke  felt  much  more  uncomfortable  than  he  had 
expected,  but  he  was  rather  a  favorite  with  the  doctor 
for  his  openness  and  plainness  of  speech  ;  so  blurted 
out,  as  he  walked  by  the  doctor's  side,  who  had  already 
turned  back  : 

"  Yes,  sir,  generally.  But  I  thought  you  wished  us 
to  exercise  a  discretion  in  the  matter,  too — not  to  inter- 
fere too  soon." 

"But  they  have  been  fighting  this  half-hour  and 
more,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Yes,  sir,  but  neither  was  hurt.  And  they're  the 
sort  of  boys  who'll  be  all  the  better  friends  now,  which 
they  wouldn't  have  been  if  they  had  been  stopped  any 
earlier — before  it  was  so  equal." 

"Who  was  fighting  with  Brown?"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Williams,  sir,  of  Thompson's.  He  is  bigger  than 
Brown,  and  had  the  best  of  it  at  first,  but  not  when 
you  came  up,  sir.  There's  a  good  deal  of  jealousy  be- 
tween our  house  and  Thompson's,  and  there  would  have 
been  more  fights  if  this  hadn't  been  let  go  on,  or  if 
either  of  them  had  had  much  the  worst  of  it." 

"  Well,  but,  Brooke,"  said  the  doctor,  "  doesn't  this 
look  a  little  as  if  you  exercised  your  discretion  by  only 
stopping  a  fight  when  the  school-house  boy  is  getting 
the  worst  of  it  \ " 

Brooke,  it  must  be  confessed,  felt  rather  graveled. 

"Ecmember,"  added  the  doctor,  as  he  stopped  at  the 
turret-door,  "  this  fight  is  not  to  go  on — you'll  see  to 
that.  And  I  expect  you  to  stop  all  fights  in  future  at 
once." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  young  Brooke,  touching  his 


282  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

hat,  and  not  sorry  to  see  the  turret-door  close  behind 
the  doctor's  back. 

Meantime  Tom  and  the  stanchest  of  his  adherents 
had  reached  Harrowell's,  and  Sally  was  bustling  about 
to  get  them  a  late  tea,  while  Stumps  had  been  sent  off 
to  Tew,  the  butcher,  to  get  a  piece  of  raw  beef  for 
Tom's  eye,  which  was  to  be  healed  off-hand,  so  that  he 
might  show  well  in  the  morning.  He  was  not  a  bit 
the  worse  except  a  slight  difficulty  in  his  vision,  a  sing- 
ing in  his  ears,  and  a  sprained  thumb,  which  he  kept 
in  a  cold-water  bandage,  while  he  drank  lots  of  tea, 
and  listened  to  the  babel  of  voices  talking  and  specu- 
lating of  nothing  but  the  fight,  and  how  Williams 
would  have  given  in  after  another  fall  (which  he  didn't 
in  the  least  believe),  and  how  on  earth  the  doctor 
could  have  gotten  to  know  of  it — such  bad  luck !  He 
couldn't  help  thinking  to  himself  that  he  was  glad 
he  hadn't  won ;  he  liked  it  better  as  it  was,  and  felt 
very  friendly  to  the  slogger.  And  then  poor  little 
Arthur  crept  in  and  sat  down  quietly  near  him,  and 
kept  looking  at  him  and  the  raw  beef  with  such  plain- 
tive looks,  that  Tom  at  last  burst  out  laughing. 

"Don't  make  such  eyes,  young 'un,"  said  he  "  there's 
nothing  the  matter." 

" Oh,  but  Tom,  are  you  much  hurt?  I  can't  bear 
thinking  it  was  all  for  me." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  don't  flatter  yourself.  We  were 
sure  to  have  had  it  out  sooner  or  later." 

"Well,  but  you  won't  go  on,  will  you?  You'll 
promise  me  you  won't  go  on." 

u  Can't  tell  about  that — all  depends  on  the  houses. 
We're  in  the  hands  of  our  countrymen,  you  know. 
Must  fight  for  the  school-house  flag,  if  so  be." 

However,  the  lovers  of  the  science  were  doomed  to 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  283 

disappointment  this  time.  Directly  after  locking-up, 
one  of  the  night  fags  knocked  at  Tom's  door. 

"  Brown,  young  Brooke  wants  you  in  the  sixth  form 
room." 

Up  went  Tom  to  the  summons,  and  found  the  mag- 
nates sitting  at  their  supper. 

"  Well,  Brown,"  said  young  Brooke,  nodding  to  him, 
"  how  do  you  feel  ? " 

"  Oh,  very  well,  thank  you,  only  I've  sprained  my 
thumb,  I  think." 

"  Sure  to  do  that  in  a  fight.  Well,  you  hadn't  the 
worst  of  it,  I  could  see.  Where  did  you  learn  that 
throw  ? " 

"  Down  in  the  country,  when  I  was  a  boy." 

"  Hullo !  why  what  are  you  now  ?  Well,  never 
mind,  you're  a  plucky  fellow.  Sit  down  and  have 
some  supper." 

Tom  obeyed,  by  no  means  loth.  And  the  fifth-form 
boy  next  him  filled  him  a  tumbler  of  bottled  beer,  and 
he  ate  and  drank,  listening  to  the  pleasant  talk,  and 
•wondering  how  soon  he  should  be  in  the  fifth,  and 
one  of  that  much  envied  society. 

As  he  got  up  to  leave,  Brooke  said,  "  You  must 
shake  hands  to-morrow  morning ;  I  shall  come  and  see 
that  done  after  first  lesson." 

And  so  he  did.  And  Tom  and  the  slogger  shook 
hands  with  great  satisfaction  and  mutual  respect. 
And  for  the  next  year  or  two,  whenever  fights  were 
being  talked  of,  the  small  boys  who  had  been  present 
shook  their  heads  wisely,  saying,  "Ah  !  but  you  should 
just  have  seen  the  fight  between  Slogger  Williams  and 
Tom  Brown ! " 

And  now,  boys  all,  three  words  before  we  quit  the 
subject.  I  have  put  in  this  chapter  on  fighting  of 


284  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

malice  prepense,  partly  because  I  want  to  give  you  a 
true  picture  of  what  every -day  school  life  was  in  my 
time,  and  not  a  kid-glove  and  go-to-meeting-coat  pic- 
ture; and  partly  because  of  the  cant  and  twaddle 
that's  talked  of  boxing  and  fighting  with  fists  now-a- 
days.  Even  Thackeray  has  given  in  to  it ;  and  only  a 
few  weeks  ago  there  was  some  rampant  stuff  in  the 
Times  on  the  subject,  in  an  article  on  field  sports. 

Boys  will  quarrel,  and  when  they  quarrel  will  some- 
times fight.  Fighting  with  fists  is  the  natural  and 
English  way  for  English  boys  to  settle  their  quarrels. 
What  substitute  for  it  is  there,  or  ever  was  there, 
among  any  nation  under  the  sun  ?  What  would  you 
like  to  see  take  its  place  ? 

Learn  to  box,  then,  as  you  learn  to  play  cricket  and 
football.  Not  one  of  you  will  be  the  worse,  but  very 
much  the  better  for  learning  to  box  well.  Should  you 
never  have  to  use  it  in  earnest,  there's  no  exercise  in 
the  world  so  good  for  the  temper,  and  for  the  muscles 
of  the  back  and  legs. 

As  to  fighting,  keep  out  of  it  if  you  can,  by  all 
means.  When  the  time  conies,  if  it  ever  should,  that 
you  have  to  say  "Yes"  or ''No"  to  a  challenge  to 
fight,  say  "  No  "  if  you  can — only  take  care  you  make 
it  clear  to  yourselves  why  you  say  "  No."  It's  a 
proof  of  the  highest  courage,  if  done  from  true 
Christian  motives.  It's  quite  right  and  justifiable,  if 
done  from  a  simple  aversion  to  physical  pain  and 
danger.  But  don't  say  "  No"  because  you  fear  a  lick- 
ing, and  say  or  think  it's  because  you  fear  God,  for 
that's  neither  Christian  nor  honest.  And  if  you  do 
fight,  fight  it  out ;  and  don't  give  in  while  you  can 
stand  and  see. 


TOM  BKOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  285 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FEVER    IN   THE   SCHOOL. 

"  This  our  Lope  for  all  that's  mortal, 
And  we  too  shall  burst  the  bond; 
Death  keeps  watch  beside  the  portal, 
But  'tis  life  that  dwells  beyond." 

— JOHN  STERLING. 

Two  years  have  passed  since  the  events  recorded  in 
the  last  chapter,  and  the  end  of  the  summer  half-year 
is  again  drawing  on.  Martin  has  left  and  gone  on  a 
cruise  in  the  South  Pacific,  in  one  of  his  uncle's  ships; 
the  old  magpie,  as  disreputable  as  ever,  his  last  bequest 
to  Arthur,  lives  in  the  joint  study.  Arthur  is  nearly 
sixteen,  and  is  at  the  head  of  the  twenty,  having  gone 
up  the  school  at  the  rate  of  a  form  a  half-year.  East 
and  Tom  have  been  much  more  deliberate  in  their 
progress,  and  are  only  a  little  way  up  the  fifth  form. 
Great  strapping  boys  they  are,  but  still  thorough  boys, 
filling  about  the  same  place  in  the  house  that  young 
Brooke  filled  when  they  were  new  boys,  and  much 
the  same  sort  of  fellows.  Constant  intercourse  with 
Arthur  has  done  much  for  both  of  them,  especially  for 
Tom  ;  but  much  remains  yet  to  be  done,  if  they  are 
to  get  all  the  good  out  of  Rugby  which  is  to  be  got 
there  in  these  times.  Arthur  is  still  frail  and  delicate, 
with  more  spirit  than  body  ;  but,  thanks  to  his  in- 
timacy with  them  and  Martin,  has  learned  to.  gwim, 


286  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  run,  and  play  cricket,  and  has  never  hurt  himself 
by  too  much  reading. 

One  evening,  as  they  were  all  sitting  down  to  supper 
in  the  fifth-form  room,  some  one  started  a  report  that 
a  fever  had  broken  out  at  one  of  the  boarding-houses ; 
"  they  say,"  he  added,  "  that  Thompson  is  very  ill,  and 
that  Dr.  Robertson  has  been  sent  for  from  Northamp- 
ton." 

"  Then  we  shall  all  be  sent  home,"  cried  another. 
"  Hurrah !  five  weeks'  extra  holidays,  and  no  fifth- 
form  examination ! " 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Tom  ;  "  there'll  be  no  Marylebone 
match  then  at  the  end  of  the  half." 

Some  thought  one  thing,  some  another,  many  didn't 
believe  the  report;  but  the  next  day,  Tuesday,  Dr. 
Robertson  arrived,  and  stayed  all  day,  and  had  long 
conferences  with  the  doctor. 

On  Wednesday  morning,  after  prayers,  the  doctor 
addressed  the  whole  school.  There  were  several  cases 
of  fever  in  different  houses,  he  said  ;  but  Dr.  Robert- 
son, after  the  most  careful  examination,  had  assured 
him  that  it  was  not  infectious,  and  that  if  proper  care 
were  taken,  there  could  be  no  reason  for  stopping  the 
school  work  at  present.  The  examinations  were  just 
coming  on,  and  it  would  be  very  unadvisable  to  break 
up  now.  However,  any  boys  who  chose  to  do  so  were 
at  liberty  to  write  home,  and,  if  their  parents  wished 
it,  to  leave  at  once.  He  should  send  the  whole  school 
home  if  the  fever  spread. 

The  next  day  Arthur  sickened,  but  there  was  no 
other  case.  Before  the  end  of  the  week  thirty  or  forty 
boys  had  gone,  but  the  rest  stayed  on.  There  was  a 
general  wish  to  please  the  doctor,  and  a  feeling  that  it 
was  cowardly  to  run  away. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  287 

On  the  Saturday  Thompson  died,  in  the  bright  after- 
noon, while  the  cricket-match  was  going  on  as  usual 
on  the  big-side  ground :  the  doctor  coming  from  his 
death-bed,  passed  along  the  gravel  walk  at  the  side  of 
the  close,  but  no  one  knew  what  had  happened  till  the 
next  day.  At  morning  lecture  it  began  to  be  rumored, 
and  by  afternoon  chapel  was  known  generally  ;  and  a 
feeling  of  seriousness  and  awe  at  the  actual  presence 
of  death  among  them  came  over  the  whole  school.  In 
all  the  long  years  of  his  ministry  the  doctor  perhaps 
never  spoke  words  which  sank  deeper  than  some  of 
those  in  that  day's  sermon.  "  When  I  came  yesterday 
from  visiting  all  but  the  very  death-bed  of  him  who 
has  been  taken  from  us,  and  looked  around  upon  all 
the  familiar  objects  and  scenes  within  our  own  ground, 
where  your  common  amusements  were  going  on,  with 
your  common  cheerfulness  and  activity,  I  felt  there 
was  nothing  painful  in  witnessing  that ;  it  did  not 
seem  in  any  way  shocking  or  out  of  tune  with  those 
feelings  which  the  sight  of  a  dying  Christian  must  be 
supposed  to  awaken.  The  unsuitableness  in  point  of 
natural  feeling  between  scenes  of  mourning  and  scenes 
of  liveliness  did  not  at  all  present  itself.  But  I  did 
feel  that  if  at  that  moment  any  of  those  faults  had 
been  brought  before  me  which  sometimes  occur  among 
us ;  had  I  heard  that  any  of  you  had  been  guilty  of 
falsehood,  or  of  drunkenness,  or  of  any  other  such  sin  ; 
had  I  heard  from  any  quarter  the  language  of  pro- 
faneness,  or  of  unkind  ness,  or  of  indecency  ;  had  I 
heard  or  seen  any  signs  of  that  wretched  folly  which 
courts  the  laugh  of  fools  by  affecting  not  to  dread  evil 
and  not  to  care  for  good,  then  the  unsuitableness  of 
any  of  these  things  with  the  scene  I  had  just  quitted 
•would  indeed  have  been  most  intensely  painful.  And 


288  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL 

why  ?  Not  because  such  things  would  really  have 
been  worse  than  at  any  other  time,  but  because  at  such 
a  moment  the  eyes  are  opened  really  to  know  good 
and  evil,  because  we  then  feel  what  it  is  so  to  live  as 
that  death  becomes  an  infinite  blessing,  and  what  it  is 
so  to  live  also,  that  it  were  good  for  us  if  we  had  never 
been  born." 

Tom  had  gone  into  chapel  in  sickening  anxiety  about 
Arthur,  but  he  came  out  cheered  and  strengthened  by 
those  grand  words,  and  walked  up  alone  to  their  study. 
And  when  iie  sat  down  and  looked  round,  and  saw 
Arthur's  straw-hat  and  cricket-jacket  hanging  on  their 
pegs,  and  marked  all  his  little  neat  arrangements,  not 
one  of  which  had  been  disturbed,  the  tears  indeed 
rolled  down  his  cheeks :  but  they  were  calm  and 
blessed  tears,  and  he  repeated  to  himself,  "  Yes, 
Geordie's  eyes  are  opened — he  knows  what  it  is  so  to 
live  as  that  death  becomes  an  infinite  blessing.  But 
do  I  ?  Oh,  God  can  I  bear  to  lose  him  ? " 

The  week  passed  mournfully  away.  No  more  boys 
sickened,  but  Arthur  was  reported  worse  each  day  and 
his  mother  arrived  early  in  the  week.  Tom  made 
many  appeals  to  be  allowed  to  see  him,  and  several 
times  tried  to  get  up  to  the  sick-room ;  but  the 
housekeeper  was  always  in  the  way,  and  at  last  spoke 
to  the  doctor,  who  kindly,  but  peremptorily,  forbade 
him. 

Thompson  was  buried  on  the  Tuesday ;  and  the 
burial  service,  so  soothing  and  grand  always,  but  be- 
yond all  words  solemn  when  read  over  a  boy's  grave 
to  his  companions,  brought  him  much  comfort,  and 
many  strange  new  thoughts  and  longings.  He  went 
back  to  his  regular  life,  and  played  cricket  and  bathed 
as  usual :  it  seemed  to  him  that  this  was  the  right 


TOM  BROWN  S  SCHOOL  BAYS.  2bO 

thing  to  do,  and  the  new  thoughts  and  longings  be- 
came more  brave  and  healthy  for  the  effort.  The 
crisis  came  on  Saturday,  the  day  week  that  Thompson 
had  died,  and  during  that  long  afternoon  Tom  sat  in 
his  study  reading  his  Bible  and  going  every  half-hour 
to  the  housekeeper's  room,  expecting  each  time  to 
hear  that  the  gentle  and  brave  little  spirit  had  gone 
home.  But  God  had  work  for  Arthur  to  do:  the 
crisis  passed — on  Sunday  evening  he  was  declared 
out  of  danger;  on  Monday  he  sent  a  message  to 
Tom  that  he  was  almost  well,  had  changed  his 
room,  and  was  to  be  allowed  to  see  him  the  next 
day. 

It  was  evening  when  the  housekeeper  summoned  him 
to  the  sick-room.  Arthur  was  lying  on  the  sofa  by  the 
open  window,  through  which  the  rays  of  the  western 
sun  stole  gently,  lighting  up  his  white  face  and  golden 
hair.  Tom  remembered  a  German  picture  of  an  angel 
which  he  knew ;  often  had  he  thought  how  transpar- 
ent and  golden  and  spirit-like  it  was ;  and  he  shud- 
dered to  think  how  like  it  Arthur  looked,  and  felt  a 
shock  as  if  his  blood  had  all  stopped  short,  as  he  realized 
how  near  the  other  world  his  friend  must  have  been 
to  look  like  that.  Never  till  that  moment  had  he  felt 
how  his  little  chum  had  twined  himself  round  his 
heartstrings  ;  and  as  he  stole  gently  across  the  room 
and  knelt  down,  and  put  his  arm  round  Arthur's  head 
on  the  pillow,  he  felt  ashamed  and  half  angry  at  his 
own  red  and  brown  face,  and  the  bounding  sense  of 
health  and  power  which  filled  every  fiber  of  his  body, 
and  made  every  movement  of  mere  living  a  joy  to  him. 
He  needn't  have  troubled  himself ;  it  was  this  very 
strength  and  power  so  different  from  his  own  which 
drew  Arthur  so  to  him. 


TOM  CROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Arthur  laid  his  thin  white  hand,  on  which  the  blue 
veins  stood  out  so  plainly,  on  Tom's  great  brown  fist, 
and  smiled  at  him  ;  and  then  looked  out  of  the  window 
again,  as  if  he  couldn't  bear  to  lose  a  moment  of  the 
sunset,  into  the  tops  of  the  great  feathery  elms,  round 
which  the  rooks  were  circling  and  clanging,  returning 
in  flocks  from  their  evening's  foraging  parties.  The 
elms  rustled,  the  sparrows  in  the  ivy  just  outside  the 
window  chirped  and  fluttered  about,  quarreling  and 
making  it  up  again ;  the  rooks  young  and  old  talked 
in  chorus ;  and  the  merry  shouts  of  the  boys,  and  the 
sweet  click  of  the  cricket-bats,  came  up  cheerily  from 
below. 

"  Dear  George,"  said  Tom,  "  I  am  so  glad  to  be  let 
up  to  see  you  at  last.  I've  tried  hard  to  come  so  often, 
but  they  wouldn't  let  me  before." 

"  Oh,  I  know,  Tom  ;  Mary  has  told  me  every  day 
about  you,  and  how  she  was  obliged  to  make  the  doctor 
speak  to  you  to  keep  you  away.  I'm  very  glad  you 
didn't  get  up,  for  you  might  have  caught  it,  and  you 
couldn't  stand  being  ill  with  all  the  matches  going  on. 
And  you're  in  the  eleven  too,  I  hear — I'm  so  glad." 

"  Yes,  ain't  it  jolly?"  said  Tom,  proudly  ;  " I'm  ninth 
too.  I  made  forty  at  the  last  pie-match  and  caught 
three  fellows  out.  So  I  was  put  in  above  Jones  and 
Tucker.  Tucker's  so  savage,  for  he  was  head  of  the 
twenty-two." 

"  "Well,  I  think  you  ought  to  be  higher  yet,"  said 
Arthur,  who  was  as  jealous  for  the  renown  of  Tom  in 
games,  as  Tom  was  for  his  as  a  scholar. 

"  Never  mind,  I  don't  care  about  cricket  or  anything 
now  your  getting  well,  Geordie  ;  and  I  shouldn't  have 
hurt,  I  know,  if  they'd  have  let  me  come  up — nothing 
hurts  me.  But  you'll  get  about  now  directly, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  291 

you?  You  won't  believe  how  clean  I've  kept  the 
study.  All  your  things  are  just  as  you  left  them ;  and 
I  feed  the  old  magpie  just  when  you  used,  though  I 
have  to  come  in  from  big-side  for  him,  the  old  rip. 
He  won't  look  pleased  all  I  can  do,  and  sticks  his  head 
first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other,  and  blinks  at 
me  before  he'll  begin  to  eat,  till  I'm  half  inclined  to 
box  his  ears.  And  whenever  East  comes  in,  you 
should  see  him  hop  off  to  the  window,  dot  and  go  one, 
though  Harry  wouldn't  touch  a  feather  of  him  now." 

Arthur  laughed.  "  Old  Gravey  has  a  good  memory ; 
he  can't  forget  the  sieges  of  poor  Martin's  den  in  old 
times."  He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  went  on. 
"You  can't  think  how  often  I've  been  thinking  of  old 
Martin  since  I've  been  ill ;  I  suppose  one's  mind  gets 
restless,  and  likes  to  wander  off  to  strange  unknown 
places.  I  wonder  what  queer  new  pets  the  old  boy  has 
got;  how  he  must  be  reveling  in  the  thousand  new 
birds,  beasts  and  fishes." 

Tom  felt  a  pang  of  jealousy,  but  kicked  it  out  in  a 
moment.  "  Fancy  him  on  a  South  Sea  island,  with 
the  Cherokees  or  Patagonians,  or  some  such  wild 
niggers"  (Tom's  ethnology  and  geography  were 
faulty,  but  sufficient  for  his  needs) ;  "  they'll  make  the 
old  madman  cock  medicine-man  and  tattoo  him  all 
over.  Perhaps  he's  cutting  about  now  all  blue,  and 
has  a  squaw  and  a  wigwam.  He'll  improve  their 
boomerangs,  and  be  able  to  throw  them  too,  without 
having  old  Thomas  sent  after  him  by  the  doctor  to 
take  them  away." 

Arthur  laughed  at  the  remembrance  of  the  boomer- 
ang story,  but  then  looked  grave  again,  and  said  : 
"He'll  convert  all  the  island,  I  know." 

"  Yes,  if  lie  don't  biovy  it  up  first." 


292  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Do  you  remember,  Tom,  how  you  and  East  used 
to  laugh  at  him  and  chaff  him,  because  he  said  he  was 
sure  the  rooks  all  had  calling-over  or  prayers,  or 
something  of  the  sort,  when  the  locking-up  bell  rang? 
Well,  I  declare,"  said  Arthur,  looking  up  seriously 
into  Tom's  laughing  eyes,  "  I  do  think  he  was  right. 
Since  I've  been  lying  here,  I've  watched  them  every 
night;  and  do  you  know,  they  really  do  come,  and 
perch  all  of  them  just  about  locking-up  time;  and  then 
first  there's  a  regular  chorus  of  caws,  and  then  they 
stop  a  bit,  and  one  old  fellow,  or  perhaps  two  or  three 
in  different  trees,  caw  solos,  and  then  off  they  all  go 
again,  fluttering  about  and  cawing  anyhow  till  they 
roost." 

"  I  wonder  if  the  old  blackies  do  talk,"  said  Tom, 
looking  up  at  them.  "  How  they  must  abuse  me 
and  East,  and  pray  for  the  doctor  for  stopping  the 
slinging." 

"  There !  look,  look  !  "  cried  Arthur  ;  "  don't  you  see 
the  old  fellow  without  a  tail  coming  up?  Martin  used 
to  call  him  the  'clerk.'  He  can't  steer  himself.  You 
never  saw  such  fun  as  he  is  in  a  high  wind,  when  he 
can't  steer  himself  home,  and  gets  carried  right  past 
the  trees,  and  has  to  bear  up  again  and  again  before  he 
can  perch. 

The  locking-up  bell  began  to  toll,  and  the  two  boys 
were  silent,  and  listened  to  it.  The  sound  soon  carried 
Tom  off  to  the  river  and  the  woods,  and  he  began  to 
go  over  in  his  mind  the  many  occasions  on  which  he 
had  heard  that  toll  coming  faintly  down  the  breeze, 
and  had  to  pack  up  his  rod  in  a  hurry,  and  make  a  run 
for  it,  to  get  in  before  the  gates  were  shut.  lie  was 
roused  with  a  start  from  his  memories  by  Arthur's 
voice,  gentle  and  weak  from  Uis  late  illness, 


TOM  BROWN'S  RCHOOT,  DAYS.  293 

"Tom,  will  you  be  angry  if  I  talk  to  you  very 
seriously  ? " 

"  No,  dear  old  boy,  not  I.  But  ain't  you  faint,  Ar- 
thur, or  ill  ?  What  can  I  get  you  ?  Don't  say  any- 
thing to  hurt  yourself  now — you  are  very  weak  ;  let 
me  come  up  again." 

"No,  no,  I  shan't  hurt  myself;  I'd  sooner  speak  to 
you  now,  if  you  don't  mind.  I've  asked  Mary  to  tell 
the  doctor  that  you  are  with  me,  so  you  needn't  go 
down  to  calling-over;  and  I  mayn't  have  another 
chance,  for  I  shall  most  likely  have  to  go  home  for 
change  of  air  to  get  well,  and  mayn't  come  back  this 
half." 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  you  must  go  away  before  the 
end  of  the  half  ?  I'm  so  sorry.  It's  more  than  five 
weeks  yet  to  the  holidays,  and  all  the  fifth-form  exam- 
ination and  half  the  cricket-matches  to  come  yet.  And 
what  shall  I  do  all  that  time  alone  in  our  study  ? 
Why,  Arthur,  it  will  be  more  than  twelve  weeks  be- 
fore I  see  you  again.  Oh,  hang  it,  I  can't  stand  that ! 
Besides,  who's  to  keep  me  up  to  working  at  the  exam- 
ination books?  I  shall  come  out  bottom  of  the  form, 
as  sure  as  eggs  is  eggs." 

Tom  was  rattling  on,  half  in  joke,  half  in  earnest, 
for  he  wanted  to  get  Arthur  out  of  his  serious  vein, 
thinking  it  would  do  him  harm  ;  but  Arthur  broke 
in : 

"Oh,  please,  Tom,  stop,  or  you'll  drive  all  I  had  to 
say  out  of  my  head.  And  I'm  already  horribly  afraid 
I'm  going  to  make  you  angry." 

"  Don't  gammon,  young  'un,"  rejoined  Tom  (the  use 
of  the  old  name,  dear  to  him  from  old  recollections, 
made  Arthur  start  and  smile,  and  feel  quite  happy); 
"you  know  you  ain't  afraid,  and  you've  never  made 


294  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

me  angry  since  the  first  month  \ve  chummed  together. 
Now  I'm  going  to  be  quite  sober  for  a  quarter  of  an. 
hour,  which  is  more  than  I  am  once  in  a  year;  so 
make  the  most  of  it;  heave  ahead,  and  pitch  into  me 
right  and  left." 

"  Dear  Tom,  I  ain't  going  to  pitch  into  you,"  said 
Arthur,  piteously  ;  "and  it  seems  so  cocky  in  me  to  be 
advising  you,  who've  been  my  backbone  ever  si  nee  I'  ve 
been  at  Rugby,  and  have  made  the  school  a  paradise 
to  me.  Ah,  I  see  I  shall  never  do  it,  unless  I  go  head- 
over-heels  at  once,  as  you  said  when  you  taught  me  to 
swim.  Tom,  I  want  you  to  give  up  using  vulgus-books 
and  cribs." 

Arthur  sank  back  on  to  his  pillow  with  a  sigh,  as  if 
the  effort  had  been  great;  but  the  worst  Avas  now  over, 
and  he  looked  straight  at  Tom,  who  was  evidently 
taken  aback.  He  leaned  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  and 
stuck  his  hands  into  his  hair,  whistled  a  verse  of 
"  Billy  Taylor,"  and  then  was  quite  silent  for  an- 
other minute.  Not  a  shade  crossed  his  face  but  he 
was  clearly  puzzled.  At  last  he  looked  up  and 
caught  Arthur's  anxious  look,  took  his  hand,  and  said 
simply : 

"  Why,  young  'un  ? " 

"  Because  you're  the  honestest  boy  in  Rugby,  and 
that  ain't  honest." 

"  I  don't  see  that." 

"  What  were  you  sent  to  Rugby  for  ? " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  exactly — nobody  ever  told  me. 
I  suppose  because  all  boys  are  sent  to  a  public  school 
in  England." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  yourself?  What  do  you 
want  to  do  here,  and  to  carry  away  ? " 

Tom  thought  a  minute.  "  I  want  to  be  A-l  at  cricket 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  295 

and  football,  and  all  the  other  games,  and  to  make 
my  hands  keep  my  head  against  any  fellow,  lout  or 
gentleman.  I  want  to  get  into  the  sixth  before  I 
leave,  and  to  please  the  doctor ;  and  I  want  to  carry 
away  just  as  much  Latin  and  Greek  as  will  take  me 
through  Oxford  respectably.  There  now,  young  'un,  I 
never  thought  of  it  before,  but  that's  pretty  much 
about  my  figure.  Ain't  it  all  on  the  square?  What 
have  you  got  to  say  to  that  ? " 

"  Why,  that  you  are  pretty  sure  to  do  all  that  you 
want,  then." 

"Well,  I  hope  so.  But  you've  forgot  one  thing, 
what  I  want  to  leave  behind  me.  I  want  to  leave  be- 
hind me,"  said  Tom,  speaking  slow,  and  looking  much 
moved,  "  the  name  of  a  fellow  who  never  bullied  a  lit- 
tle boy,  or  turned  his  back  on  a  big  one." 

Arthur  pressed  his  hand,  and  after  a  moment's 
silence  went  on:  "You  say,  Tom,  you  want 
to  please  the  doctor.  Now,  do  you  want  to  please 
him  by  what  he  thinks  you  do,  or  by  what  you  really 
do?" 

"  By  what  I  really  do,  of  course." 

"  Does  he  think  you  use  cribs  and  vulgus-books  ? " 

Tom  felt  at  once  that  his  flank  was  turned,  but  he 
couldn't  give  in.  "He  was  at  Winchester  himself," 
said  he  ;  "  he  knows  all  about  it." 

"Yes,  but  does  he  think  you  use  them?  Do  you 
think  he  approves  of  it?" 

"  You  young  villain ! "  said  Tom,  shaking  his  fist  at 
Arthur,  half  vexed  and  half  pleased,  "  I  never  think 
about  it.  Hang  it — there,  perhaps  he  don't.  Well,  I 
suppose  he  don't." 

Arthur  saw  that  he  had  got  his  point ;  he  knew  his 
friend  well,  and  was  wise  in  silence,  as  in  speech.  He 


296  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS. 

only  said,  "  I  would  sooner  have  the  doctor's  good 
opinion  of  me  as  I  really  am  than  any  man's  in  the 
world." 

After  another  minute,  Tom  began  again.  "  Look 
here,  young  'an  ;  how  on  earth  am  I  to  get  time  to 
play  the  matches  this  half,  if  I  give  up  cribs!  We're 
in  the  middle  of  that  long  crabbed  chorus  in  the 
'Agamemnon  ; '  I  can  only  just  make  head  or  tail  of 
it  with  the  crib.  Then  there's  Pericles*  speech  com- 
ing on  in  Thucydides,  and  '  The  Birds '  to  get  up  for 
the  examination,  besides  the  Tacitus.  Tom  groaned 
at  the  thought  of  his  accumulated  labors.  "I  say, 
young  'nn,  there's  only  five  weeks  or  so  left  to 
holidays;  mayn't  I  go  on  as  usual  for  this  half? 
Fll  tell  the  doctor  about  it  some  day,  or  you 
may." 

Arthur  looked  out  of  the  window  ;  the  twilight  had 
come  on  and  all  was  silent.  He  repeated,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  In  this  thing  the  Lord  pardon  thy  servant,  that 
when  my  master  goeth  into  the  house  of  Rimmon  to 
worship  there,  and  he  leaneth  on  my  hand,  and  I  bow 
myself  in  the  house  of  Rimmon;  the  Lord  pardon 
thy  servant  in  this  thing." 

Not  a  word  more  was  said  on  the  subject,  and  the 
boys  were  again  silent — one  of  those  blessed,  short 
silences  in  which  the  resolves  which  color  a  life  are 
so  often  taken. 

Tom  was  the  first  to  break  it.  "  You've  been  very 
ill  indeed,  haven't  you  Geordie?  "  said  he,  with  a  mix- 
ture of  awe  and  curiosity,  feeling  as  if  his  friend  had 
been  in  some  strange  place  or  scene,  of  which  he  could 
form  no  idea,  and  full  of  the  memory  of  his  own 
thoughts  during  the  last  week. 

"Yes,   very.    I'm  sure  the  doctor    thought  I  was 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS.  297 

going  to  die.  He  gave  me  the  sacrament  last  Sunday 
and  you  can't  think  what  he  is  when  one  is  ill.  He 
said  such  brave,  and  tender,  and  gentle  things  to  me; 
I  felt  quite  light  and  strong  after  it,  and  never  had 
any  more  fear.  My  mother  brought  our  old  medical 
man,  who  attended  me  when  I  was  a  poor  sickly 
child;  he  said  my  constitution  was  quite  changed, 
and  that  I'm  fit  for  anything  now.  If  it  hadn't  I 
couldn't  have  stood  three  days  of  this  illness.  That's 
all  thanks  to  you,  and  the  games  you've  made  me 
fond  of." 

"  More  thanks  to  old  Martin,"  said  Tom;  "  he's  been 
your  real  friend." 

"  Nonsense,  Tom;  he  never  could  have  done  for  me 
what  you  have." 

"Well,  I  don't  know;  I  did  little  enough.  Did  they 
tell  you — you  won't  mind  hearing  it  now,  I  know — 
that  poor  Thompson  died  last  week?  The  other  three 
boys  are  getting  quite  round,  like  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  heard  of  it." 

Then  Tom,  who  was  quite  full  of  it,  told  Arthur  of 
the  burial-service  in  the  chapel,  and  how  it  had  im- 
pressed him,  and  he  believed  all  the  other  boys. 
"  And  though  the  doctor  never  said  a  word  about  it," 
said  he,  "  and  it  was  a  half-holiday  and  match-day, 
there  wasn't  a  game  played  in  the  close  all  the  after- 
noon, and  the  boys  all  went  about  as  if  it  were  Sun- 
day." 

"  I'm  very  glad  of  it,"  said  Arthur.  "  But,  Tom, 
I've  had  such  strange  thoughts  about  death  lately. 
I've  never  told  a  soul  of  them,  not  even  my  mother. 
Sometimes  I  think  they're  wrong ;  but,  do  you  know, 
I  don't  think  in  my  heart  I  could  be  sorry  at  the 
death  of  any  of  ray  friends," 


298  TOM  BKOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Tom  was  taken  quite  aback.  "What  in  the  world 
is  the  young  'un  after  now?"  thought  he;  "I've  swal- 
lowed a  good  many  of  his  crotches,  but  this  altogether 
beats  me.  He  can't  be  quite  right  in  his  head."  He 
didn't  want  to  say  a  word,  and  shifted  about  uneasily 
in  the  dark;  however,  Arthur  seemed  to  be  waiting 
for  an  answer,  so  at  last  he  said,  "  I  don't  think  I 
quite  see  what  you  mean,  Geordie.  One's  told  so 
often  to  think  about  death,  that  I've  tried  it  on  some- 
times, especially  this  last  week.  But  we  won't  talk  of 
it  now.  I'd  better  go — you're  getting  tired,  and  I 
shall  do  you  harm." 

"  No,  no,  indeed  I  ain't,  Tom ;  you  must  stop  till 
nine,  there's  only  twenty  minutes.  I've  settled  you 
shall  stop  till  nine.  And  oh !  do  let  me  talk  to  you— 
I  must  talk  to  you.  I  see  it's  just  as  I  feared.  You 
think  I'm  half  mad — don't  you  now?" 

"Well,  I  did  think  it  odd  what  you  said,  Geordie, 
as  you  ask  me." 

Arthur  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said  quickly, 
"I'll  tell  you  how  it  all  happened.  At  first,  when  I 
was  sent  to  the  sick  room,  and  found  I  had  really  got 
the  fever,  I  was  terribly  frightened.  I  thought  I 
should  die,  and  I  could  not  face  it  for  a  moment.  I 
don't  think  it  was  sheer  cowardice  at  first,  but  I 
thought  how  hard  it  was  to  be  taken  away  from  my 
mother  and  sisters,  and  you  all,  just  as  I  was  beginning 
to  see  my  way  to  many  things,  and  to  feel  that  I 
might  be  a  man  and  do  a  man's  work.  To  die  with- 
out having  fought,  and  worked,  and  given  one's  life 
away,  was  too  hard  to  bear.  I  got  terribly  impatient, 
and  accused  God  of  injustice,  and  strove  to  justify 
myself ;  and  the  harder  I  strove  the  deeper  I  sank. 
Then  the  image  of  my  dear  father  often  came  across 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  299 

me,  but  I  turned  from  it.  "Whenever  it  came,  a  heavy 
numbing  throb  seemed  to  take  hold  of  my  heart  and 
say,  '  Dead — dead — dead.'  And  I  cried  out, '  The  liv- 
ing, the  living  shall  praise  Thee,  O  God;  the  dead  can- 
not praise  Thee.  There  is  no  work  in  the  grave ;  in 
the  night  no  man  can  work.  But  I  can  work.  I  can 
do  great  things.  I  will  do  great  things.  Why  wilt 
Thou  slay  me?'  And  so  I  struggled  and  plunged, 
deeper  and  deeper,  and  went  down  into  a  living  black 
tomb.  I  was  alone  there,  with  no  power  to  stir  or 
think;  alone  with  myself;  beyond  the  reach  of  all 
human  fellowship;  beyond  Christ's  reach,  I  thought, 
in  my  nightmare.  You,  who  are  brave  and  bright  and 
strong,  can  have  no  idea  of  that  agony.  Pray  to  God 
you  never  may.  Pray  as  for  your  life." 

Arthur  stopped — from  exhaustion,  Tom  thought; 
but  what  between  his  fear  lest  Arthur  should  hurt 
himself,  his  awe,  and  longing  for  him  to  go  on,  he 
couldn't  ask,  or  stir  to  help  him. 

Presently  he  went  on,  but  quite  calm  and  slow.  "  I 
don't  know  how  long  I  was  in  that  state.  For  more 
than  a  day,  I  know ;  for  I  was  quite  conscious,  and 
lived  my  outer  life  all  the  time,  and  took  my  medicine, 
and  spoke  to  my  mother,  and  heard  what  they  said. 
But  I  didn't  take  much  note  of  time ;  I  thought  time 
was  over  for  me,  and  that  that  tomb  was  what  was  be- 
yond. "Well,  on  last  Sunday  morning,  as  I  seemed  to 
lie  in  that  tomb,  alone,  as  I  thought,  forever  and  ever, 
the  black  dead  wall  was  cleft  in  two,  and  I  was  caught 
up  and  borne  through  into  the  light  by  some  great 
power,  some  living  mighty  spirit.  Tom,  do  you  re- 
member the  living  creatures  and  the  wheels  in  Ezekiel? 
It  was  just  like  that :  *  when  they  went  I  heard  the 
noise  of  their  wings,  like  the  noise  of  great  waters, 


300  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

as  the  voice  of  the  Almighty,  the  voice  of  speech,  as 
the  noise  of  an  host;  when  they  stood  they  let  down 
their  wings ' — '  and  they  wrent  every  one  straight  for- 
ward ;  whither  the  spirit  was  to  go  they  went,  and 
they  turned  not  when  they  went.'  And  wre  rushed 
through  the  bright  air,  which  was  full  of  myriads  of 
living  creatures,  and  paused  on  the  brink  of  a  great 
river.  And  the  power  held  me  up,  and  I  knew  that 
that  great  river  was  the  grave,  and  death  dwelt  there; 
but  not  the  death  I  had  met  in  the  black  tomb — that 
I  felt  was  gone  forever.  For  on  the  other  bank  of  the 
great  river  I  saw  men  and  women  and  children  rising 
up  pure  and  bright,  and  the  tears  were  wiped  from 
their  eyes,  and  they  put  on  glory  and  strength,  and  all 
weariness  and  pain  fell  away.  And  beyond  were  a 
multitude  which  no  man  could  number,  and  they 
worked  at  some  great  work  ;  and  they  who  rose  from 
the  river  went  on  and  joined  in  the  work.  They  all 
worked,  and  each  worked  in  a  different  way,  but  all  at 
the  same  work.  And  I  saw  there  my  father,  and  the 
men  in  the  old  town  whom  I  knew  when  I  was  a 
child ;  many  a  hard,  stern  man,  who  never  came  to 
church,  and  whom  they  called  atheist  and  infidel. 
There  they  were,  side  by  side  with  my  father,  whom 
I  had  seen  toil  and  die  for  them,  and  women  and  little 
children,  and  the  seal  was  on  the  foreheads  of  all. 
And  I  longed  to  see  what  the  work  was,  and  could 
not;  so  I  tried  to  plunge  in  the  river,  for  I  thought  1 
Avould  join  them,  but  I  could  not.  Then  I  looked 
about  to  see  how  they  got  into  the  river.  And  this  I 
could  not  see,  but  I  saw  myriads  on  this  side,  and  they 
too  worked,  and  I  knew  that  it  was  the  same  work ; 
and  the  same  seal  was  on  their  foreheads.  And  though 
I  saw  that  there  was  toil  and  anguish  in  the  work  of 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  301 

these,  and  that  most  that  were  working  were  blind  and 
feeble,  yet  I  longed  no  more  to  plunge  into  the  river, 
but  more  and  more  to  know  what  the  work  was. 
And  as  I  looked  I  saw  my  mother  and  my  sisters,  and 
I  saw  the  doctor,  and  you,  Tom,  and  hundreds  more 
whom  I  knew ;  and  at  last  I  saw  myself  too,  and  I 
was  toiling  and  doing  ever  so  little  a  piece  of  the  great 
work.  Then  it  all  melted  away,  and  the  power  left 
me,  and  as  it  left  me  I  thought  I  heard  a  voice  say, 
1  The  vision  is  for  an  appointed  time ;  though  it  tarry, 
wait  for  it,  for  in  the  end  it  shall  speak  and  not  lie, 
it  shall  surely  come,  it  shall  not  tarry/  It  was  early 
morning  I  know  then,  it  was  so  quiet  and  cool, 
and  my  mother  was  fast  asleep  in  the  chair  by  my  bed- 
side ;  but  it  wasn't  only  a  dream  of  mine.  I  know  it 
wasn't  a  dream.  Then  I  fell  into  a  deep  sleep,  and 
only  woke  after  afternoon  chapel ;  and  the  doctor 
came  and  gave  me  the  sacrament,  as  I  told  you.  I 
told  him  and  my  mother  I  should  get  well — I  knew  I 
should  ;  but  I  couldn't  tell  them  why.  Tom,"  said 
Arthur,  gently,  after  another  minute,  "do you  see  why 
I  could  not  grieve  now  to  see  my  dearest  friend  die  ? 
It  can't  be — it  isn't,  all  fever  or  illness.  God  would 
never  have  let  me  see  it  so  clear  if  it  wasn't  true. 
I  don't  understand  it  all  yet — it  will  take  me  my 
life  and  longer  to  do  that — to  find  out  what  the 
work  is." 

When  Arthur  stopped  there  was  a  long  pause.  Tom 
could  not  speak,  he  was  almost  afraid  to  breathe,  lest 
he  should  break  the  train  of  Arthur's  thoughts.  lie 
longed  to  hear  more,  and  to  ask  questions.  In  another 
minute  nine  o'clock  struck,  and  a  gentle  tap  at 
the  door  called  them  both  back  into  the  world  again. 
They  did.  not  answer,  however,  for  %  moment, 


302  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

so  the  door  opened  and  a  lady  came  in  carrying  a 
candle. 

She  went  straight  to  the  sofa,  and  took  hold  of 
Arthur's  hand,  and  then  stooped  down  and  kissed 
him. 

"  My  dearest  boy,  you  feel  a  little  feverish  again. 
Why  didn't  you  have  lights  ?  You've  talked  too  much 
and  excited  yourself  in  the  dark." 

"  Oh,  no,  mother  ;  you  can't  think  how  well  I  feel. 
I  shall  start  with  you  to-morrow  for  Devonshire.  But, 
mother,  here's  my  friend,  here's  Tom  Brown — you 
know  him?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  I've  known  him  for  years,"  she  said, 
and  held  out  her  hand  to  Tom,  who  was  now  standing 
up  behind  the  sofa.  This  was  Arthur's  mother.  Tall 
and  slight  and  fair,  with  masses  of  golden  hair  drawn 
back  from  the  broad  white  forehead,  and  the  calm  blue 
eye  meeting  his  so  deep  and  open — the  eye  that  he 
knew  so  well,  for  it  was  his  friends'  over  again,  and  the 
lovely  tender  mouth  that  trembled  while  he  looked. 
She  stood  there  a  woman  of  thirty-eight,  old  enough 
to  be  his  mother,  and  one  whose  face  showed  the 
lines  which  must  be  written  on  the  faces  of  good  men's 
wives  and  widows — but  he  thought  he  had  never  seen 
anything  so  beautiful.  He  couldn't  help  wondering 
if  Arthur's  sisters  were  like  her. 

Tom  held  her  hand,  and  looked  on  straight  in  her 
face ;  he  could  neither  let  it  go  nor  speak. 

"  Now,  Tom,"  said  Arthur,  laughing,  "  where  are 
your  manners  ?  you'll  stare  my  mother  out  of  counte- 
nance." Tom  dropped  the  little  hand  with  a  sigh. 
"  There,  sit  down,  both  of  you.  Here,  dearest  mother, 
there's  room  here  ; "  and  he  made  a  place  on  the  sofa 
for  her.  "  Tom,  you  needn't  go ;  I'm  sure  you  won't 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  303 

be  called  up  at  first  lesson."  Tom  felt  that  he  would 
risk  being  floored  at  every  lesson  for  the  rest  of  his 
natural  school-life  sooner  than  go,  so  sat  down.  "  And 
now,"  said  Arthur,  "  I  have  realized  one  of  the  dear- 
est wishes  of  my  life — to  see  you  two  together." 

And  then  he  led  away  the  talk  to  their  home  in. 
Devonshire,  and  the  red  bright  earth,  and  the  deep 
green  combes,  and  the  peat  streams  like  cairngorm 
pebbles,  and  the  wild  moor  with  its  high  cloudy  tors 
for  a  giant  background  to  the  picture — till  Tom  got 
jealous,  and  stood  up  for  the  clear  chalk  streams,  and 
the  emerald  water  meadows  and  great  elms  and  willows 
of  the  dear  old  royal  county,  as  he  gloried  to  call  it. 
And  the  mother  sat  on  quiet  and  loving,  rejoicing  in 
their  life.  The  quarter-to-ten  struck,  and  the  bell 
rang  for  bed  before  they  had  well  begun  their  talk,  as 
it  seemed. 

Then  Tom  rose  with  a  sigh  to  go. 

"  Shall  I  see  you  in  the  morning,  Geordie  ?  "  said  he 
as  he  shook  his  friend's  hand.  "Never  mind  though  ; 
you'll  be  back  next  half,  and  I  shan't  forget  the  house 
of  Bimraon." 

Arthur's  mother  got  up  and  walked  with  him  to  the 
door,  and  there  gave  him  her  hand  again,  and  again; 
his  eyes  met  that  deep  loving  look,  which  was  like  a 
spell  upon  him.  Her  voice  trembled  slightly  as  she 
said  :  "  Good  night — you  are  one  who  knows  what  our 
Father  has  promised  to  the  friend  of  the  widow  und  the 
fatherless.  May  He  deal  with  you  as  you  have  dealt 
with  me  and  mine." 

Tom  was  quite  upset ;  he  mumbled  something  about 
owing  everything  good  in  him  to  Geordie — looked  in 
her  face  again,  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  rushed 
down  stairs  to  his  study,  where  he  sat  till  old  Thomas 


804  lota  BROWN'S  SCHOOL 

came  kicking  at  the  door,  to  tell  him  his  allowance 
would  be  stopped  if  he  didn't  go  off  to  bed.  (It 
would  have  been  stopped  anyhow,  but  that  he  was  a 
great  favorite  with  the  old  gentleman,  who  loved  to 
come  out  in  the  afternoons  into  the  close  to  Tom's 
wicket,  and  bowl  slow  twisters  to  him,  and  talk  of 
the  glories  of  by-gone  Surrey  heroes,  with  whom  he 
had  played  in  former  generations).  So  Tom  roused 
himself,  and  took  up  his  candle  to  go  to  bed  ;  and  then 
for  the  first  time  was  aware  of  a  beautiful  new  fishing- 
rod,  with  old  Eaton's  mark  on  it,  and  a  splendidly- 
bound  Bible,  which  lay  on  his  table,  on  the  title-page 
of  which  was  written — "  TOM  BROWN,  from  his  affec- 
tionate and  grateful  friends,  Frances  Jane  Arthur ; 
George  Arthur." 

I  leave  you  all  to  guess  how  he  slept,  and  what  he 
dreamed  of. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  305 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HARKY   EAST'S   DILEMMAS   AND   DELIVERANCES. 

"  The  Holy  Supper  is  kept  indeed, 
In  whatso  we  share  with  another's  need — 
Not  that  which  we  give,  but  what  we  share, 
For  the  gift  without  the  giver  is  bare; 
Who  bestows  himself  with  his  alms  feeds  three, 
Himself,  his  hungering  neighbor,  and  Me." 

The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal. — LOWELL,  p.  11. 

THE  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  Tom,  East  and 
Grover  met  as  usual  to  learn  their  second  lesson 
together.  Tom  had  been  considering  how  to  break 
his  proposal  of  giving  up  the  crib  to  the  others,  and 
having  found  no  better  way  (as  indeed  none  better 
can  ever  be  found  by  man  or  boy),  told  them  simply 
what  had  happened  ;  how  he  had  been  to  see  Arthur, 
who  had  talked  to  him  upon  the  subject,  and  what  he 
had  said,  and  for  his  part  he  had  made  up  his  mind, 
and  wasn't  going  to  use  cribs  any  more :  and  not  being 
quite  sure  of  his  ground,  took  the  high  and  pathetic 
tone,  and  was  proceeding  to  say,  "how  that  having 
learned  his  lessons  with  them  for  so  many  years,  it 
would  grieve  him  much  to  put  an  end  to  the  arrange- 
ment, and  he  hoped  at  any  rate  that  if  they  wouldn't 
go  on  with  him,  they  should  still  be  just  as  good 
friends,  and  respect  one  another's  motives — but " 

Here  the  other  boys,  who  had  been  listening  with 
open  eyes  and  ears,  burst  in : 


30(5  toil   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense!"  cried  Gower.  "  Here,  East, 
get  down  the  crib  and  find  the  place." 

"Oh,  Tommy,  Tommy!"  said  East,  proceeding  to 
do  as  he  was  bidden,  "  that  it  should  ever  have  come 
to  this.  I  knew  Arthur'd  be  the  ruin  of  you  some 
day,  and  you  of  me.  And  now  the  time's  come  " — 
and  he  made  a  doleful  face. 

"  I  don't  know  about  ruin,"  answered  Tom;  "  I  know 
that  you  and  I  would  have  had  the  sack  long  ago,  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  him.  And  you  know  it  as  well  as  I." 

"  Well,  we  were  in  a  baddish  way  before  he  came, 
I  own ;  but  this  new  crotchet  of  his  is  past  a  joke." 

"  Let's  give  it  a  trial,  Harry ;  come — you  know  how 
often  he  has  been  right  and  we  wrong." 

"  Now,  don't  you  two  be  jawing  away  about  young 
Square-toes,"  struck  in  Gower.  "He's  no  end  of  a 
sucking  wiseacre,  I  dare  say,  but  we've  no  time  to  lose, 
and  I've  got  the  fives'-court  at  half-past  nine." 

"  I  say,  Gower,"  said  Tom,  appealingly,  "  be  a  good 
fellow,  and  let's  try  if  we  can't  get  on  without  the 
crib." 

"  What !  in  this  chorus  ?  Why,  we  shan't  get 
through  ten  lines." 

"  I  say,  Tom,"  cried  East,  having  hit  on  a  new  idea, 
"don't  you  remember,  when  we  were  in  the  upper 
fourth,  and  old  Nomus  caught  me  construing  off  the 
leaf  of  a  crib  which  I'd  torn  out  and  put  in  my  book, 
and  which  would  float  out  on  to  the  floor,  he  sent  me 
up  to  be  flogged  for  it  ? " 

"Yes,  I  remember  it  very  well." 

"  Well,  the  doctor,  after  he'd  flogged  me,  told  me 
himself  that  he  didn't  flog  me  for  using  a  translation, 
but  for  taking  it  into  lesson,  and  using  it  there  when 
I  hadn't  learned  a  word  before  I  came  in.  He  said 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  307 

there  was  no  harm  in  using  a  translation  to  get  a  clue 
to  hard  passages,  if  you  tried  all  you  could  first  to 
make  them  out  without." 

"  Did  he,  though  ? "  said  Tom ;  "  then  Arthur  must 
be  wrong." 

"Of  course  he  is,"  said  Gower,  "the  little  prig. 
We'll  only  use  the  crib  when  we  can't  construe  with- 
out it.  Go  ahead,  East." 

And  on  this  agreement  they  started  ;  Tom  satisfied 
with  having  made  his  confession,  and  not  sorry  to 
have  a  locus pwnitentice,  and  not  to  be  deprived  alto- 
gether of  the  use  of  his  old  and  faithful  friend. 

The  boys  went  on  as  usual,  each  taking  a  sentence 
in  turn,  and  the  crib  being  handed  to  the  one  whoso 
turn  it  was  to  construe.  Of  course  Tom  couldn't  ob- 
ject to  this,  as,  was  it  not  simply  lying  there  to  be  ap- 
pealed to  in  case  the  sentence  should  prove  too  hard 
altogether  for  the  construer  ?  But  it  must  be  owned 
that  Gower  and  East  did  not  make  very  tremendous 
exertions  to  conquer  their  sentences  before  having  re- 
course to  its  help.  Tom,  however,  with  the  most 
heroic  virtue  and  gallantry  rushed  into  his  sentence, 
searching  in  a  high-minded  manner  for  nominative  and 
verb,  and  turning  over  his  dictionary  frantically  for 
the  first  hard  word  that  stopped  him.  But  in  the 
meantime,  Gower,  who  was  bent  on  getting  to  fives, 
would  peep  quietly  into  the  crib,  and  then  suggest, 
"Don't  you  think  this  is  the  meaning?"  "I  think 
you  must  take  it  this  way,  Brown ;"  and  as  Tom  didn't 
see  his  way  to  not  profiting  by  these  suggestions,  the 
lesson  went  on  about  as  quickly  as  usual,  and  Gower 
was  able  to  start  for  the  fives'-court  within  five  minutes 
of  the  half-hour. 

Tom  and  East  were  left  faqe.  to  foce,  they 


308  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

looked  at  one  another  for  a  minute,  Tom  puzzled,  and 
East  chock-full  of  fun,  and  then  burst  into  a  roar  of 
laughter. 

"  Well,  Tom,"  said  East,  recovering  himself,  "  I 
don't  see  any  objection  to  the  new  way.  It's  about  as 
good  as  the  old  one,  I  think:  besides  the  advantage  it 
gives  one  of  feeling  virtuous,  and  looking  down  on 
one's  neighbors. 

Tom  shoved  his  hand  into  his  back  hair.  "  I  ain't 
so  sure,"  said  he  ;  "  you  two  fellows  carried  me  off  my 
legs :  I  don't  think  we  really  tried  one  sentence  fairly. 
Are  you  sure  you  remember  what  the  doctor  said 
to  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  I'll  swear  I  couldn't  make  out  one  of  my 
sentences  to-day.  No,  nor  ever  could.  I  really  don't 
remember,"  said  East,  speaking  slowly  and  impres- 
sively, "  to  have  come  across  one  Latin  or  Greek  sen- 
tence this  half,  that  I  could  go  and  construe  by  the 
light  of  nature.  Whereby  I  am  sure  Providence  in- 
tended cribs  to  be  used." 

"The  thing  to  find  out,"  said  Tom,  meditatively,  "is 
how  long  one  ought  to  grind  at  a  sentence  without 
looking  at  the  crib.  Now  I  think  if  one  fairly  looks 
out  all  the  words  one  don't  know,  and  then  can't  hit  it, 
that's  enough." 

"To  be  sure,  Tommy,"  said  East  demurely,  but  with 
a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  Your  new  doctrine  too, 
old  fellow,"  added  he  "  when  one  comes  to  think  of  it, 
is  a  cutting  at  the  root  of  all  school  morality.  You'll 
take  away  mutual  help,  brotherly  love,  or  in  the  vul- 
gar tongue,  giving  construes,  which  I  hold  to  be  one  of 
our  highest  virtues.  For  how  can  you  distinguish  be- 
tween getting  a  construe  from  another  boy,  and  using 
a  crib?  Jiang  it,  Tom,  if  you're  going  to  deprive  all 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  309 

our  school-fellows  of  the  chance  of  exercising  Christian 
benevolence  and  being  good  Samaritans,  I  shall  cut 
the  concern." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  joke  about  it,  Harry;  it's 
hard  enough  to  see  one's  way,  a  precious  sight  harder 
than  I  thought  last  night.  But  I  suppose  there's  a 
use  and  an  abuse  of  both,  and  one'll  get  straight 
enough  somehow.  But  you  can't  make  out  anyhow 
that  one  has  a  right  to  use  old  vulgus-books  and  copy- 
books." 

"  Hullo,  more  heresy  !  how  fast  a  fellow  goes  down 
hill  when  he  once  gets  his  head  before  his  legs. 
Listen  to  me,  Tom.  Not  use  old  vulgus-books  ? 
Why,  you  Goth  !  ain't  we  to  take  the  benefit  of  the 
wisdom,  and  admire  and  use  the  work  of  past  gen- 
erations? Not  use  old  copy-books  ?  Why  you  might 
as  well  say  we  ought  to  pull  down  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  put  up  a  go-to  meeting  shop  with  church- 
warden windows ;  or  never  read  Shakespeare,  but 
only  Sheridan  Knowles.  Think  of  all  the  work  and 
labor  that  our  predecessors  have  bestowed  on  these 
very  books;  and  are  we  to  make  their  work  of  no 
value  ? " 

"  I  say,  Harry,  please  don't  chaff ;  I'm  really 
serious." 

"  And  then,  is  it  not  our  duty  to  consult  the  pleasure 
of  others  rather  than  our  own,  and  above  all  that  of 
our  masters  ?  Fancy  then  the  difference  to  them  in 
looking  over  a  vulgus  which  has  been  carefully  touched 
and  retouched  by  themselves  and  others,  and  which 
must  bring  them  a  sort  of  dreamy  pleasure,  as  if  they'd 
met  the  thought  or  expression  of  it  somewhere  or  an- 
other— before  they  were  born  perhaps  ;  and  that  of 
cutting  up,  and  making  picture-frames  round  all  your 


310  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  my  false  quantities,  and  other  monstrosities.  Why 
Tom,  you  wouldn't  be  so  cruel  as  never  to  let  old 
Momus  hum  over  the  (0  genus  hfumanwmj  again,  and 
then  look  up  doubtingly  through  his  spectacles,  and 
end  by  smiling  and  giving  three  extra  marks  for  it : 
just  for  old  sake's  sake,  I  suppose." 

"Well,"  said  Tom,  getting  up  in  something  as  like 
a  huff  as  he  was  capable  of,  "  it's  deuced  hard  that 
when  a  fellow's  really  trying  to  do  what  he  ought,  his 
best  friends'll  do  nothing  but  chaff  him  and  try  to  put 
him  down."  And  he  stuck  his  books  under  his  arm 
and  his  hat  on  his  head,  preparatory  to  rushing  out 
into  the  quadrangle,  to  testify  with  his  own  soul  of 
the  faithlessness  of  friendships. 

"Now  don't  be  an  ass,  Tom,"  said  East,  catching 
hold  of  him,  "you  know  me  well  enough  by  this  time; 
my  bark's  worse  than  my  bite.  You  can't  expect  to 
ride  your  new  crotchet  without  anybody's  trying  to 
stick  a  nettle  under  his  tail  and  make  him  kick  you 
off ;  especially  as  we  shall  all  have  to  go  on  foot  still. 
But  now  sit  down  and  lets  go  over  it  again.  I'll  be  as 
serious  as  a  judge." 

Then  Tom  sat  himself  down  on  the  table,  and  waxed 
eloquent  about  all  the  righteousnesses  and  advantages 
of  the  new  plan,  as  was  his  wont  whenever  he  took  up 
anything ;  going  into  it  as  if  his  life  depended  upon  it, 
and  sparing  no  abuse  which  he  could  think  of  the 
opposite  method,  which  he  denounced  as  ungentle- 
manly,  cowardly,  mean,  lying  and  no  one  knows  what 
besides.  "Very  cool  of  Tom,"  as  East  thought,  but 
didn't  say,  "  seeing  as  how  he  only  came  out  of  Eg}^pt 
himself  last  night  at  bed-time." 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  he  at  last,  "you  see,  when  you 
and  I  came  to  school  there  were  none  of  these  sort  of 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  311 

notions.  You  may  be  right — I  dare  say  you  are.  Only 
what  one  has  always  felt  about  the  masters  is,  that  it's 
a  fair  trial  of  skill  and  last  between  us  and  them — like 
a  match  at  football,  or  a  battle.  We're  natural  enemies 
in  school,  that's  the  fact.  We've  got  to  learn  so  much 
Latin  and  Greek  and  do  so  many  verses,  and  they've 
got  to  see  that  we  do  it.  If  we  can  slip  the  collar  and 
do  so  much  less  without  getting  caught,  that's  one  to 
us.  If  they  can  get  more  out  of  us,  or  catch  us  shirk- 
ing, that's  one  to  them.  All's  fair  in  war,  but  lying. 
If  I  run  my  luck  against  theirs,  and  go  into  school 
without  looking  at  my  lessons,  and  don't  get  called  up, 
why  am  I  a  snob  or  a  sneak  ?  I  don't  tell  the  master 
I've  learned  it.  He's  got  to  find  out  whether  I  have  or 
not;  what's  he  paid  for  ?  If  be  calls  me  up,  and  I  get 
floored,  he  makes  me  write  it  out  in  Greek  and  English. 
Yery  good,  he's  caught  me,  and  I  don't  grumble.  I 
grant  you,  if  I  go  and  snivel  to  him,  and  tell  him  I've 
really  tried  to  learn  it  but  found  it  so  hard  without  a 
translation,  or  say  I've  had  a  toothache,  or  any  humbug 
of  that  kind,  I'm  a  snob.  That's  my  school  morality  ; 
it's  served  me — and  you  too,  Tom,  for  the  matter  of 
that — these  five  years.  And  it's  all  clear  and  fair,  no 
mistake  about  it.  We  understand  it,  and  they  under- 
stand it,  and  I  don't  know  what  we're  to  come  to  with 
any  other." 

Tom  looked  at  him  pleased,  and  a  little  puzzled.  He 
had  never  heard  East  speak  his  mind  seriously  before, 
and  couldn't  help  feeling  how  completely  he  had  hit  his 
own  theory  and  practice  up  to  that  time. 

"  Thank  you,  old  fellow,"  said  he.  "  You're  a  good 
old  brick  to  be  serious,  and  not  put  out  with  me.  I  said 
more  than  I  meant,  I  dare  say,  only  you  see  I  know 
I'm  right :  whatever  you  and  Gower  and  the  rest  do5 1 


312  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

shall  hold  on — I  must.  And  as  it's  all  new  and  an 
up-hill  game,  you  see,  one  must  hit  hard  and  hold  on 
tight  at  first." 

"  Very  good,"  said  East ;  "  hold  on  and  hit  away, 
only  don't  hit  under  the  line." 

"  But  I  must  bring  you  over,  Harry,  or  I  shan't  be 
comfortable.  Now,  I  allow  all  you've  said.  We've 
always  been  honorable  enemies  with  the  masters.  We 
found  a  state  of  war  when  we  came,  and  went  into  it  of 
course.  Only  don't  you  think  things  are  altered  a  good 
deal  ?  I  don't  feel  as  I  used  to  the  masters.  They 
seem  to  me  to  treat  one  quite  differently." 

"Yes,  perhaps  they  do,"  said  East ;  "  there's  a  new 
set,  you  see,  mostly,  who  don't  feel  sure  of  themselves 
yet.  They  don't  want  to  fight  till  they  know  the 
ground." 

"  I  don't  think  it's  only  that,"  said  Tom.  "  And 
then  the  doctor,  he  does  treat  one  so  openty,  and 
like  a  gentleman,  and  as  if  one  was  working  with 
him." 

"  Well,  so  he  does,"  said  East ;  "  he's  a  splendid 
fellow,  and  when  I  get  into  the  sixth  I  shall  act 
accordingly.  Only  you  know  he  has  nothing  to  do 
with  our  lessons  now,  except  examining  us.  I  say, 
though,"  looking  at  his  watch,  "  it's  just  the  quarter. 
Come  along." 

As  they  walked  out  they  got  a  message  to  say, 
"  that  Arthur  was  just  starting  and  would  like  to  say 
good-bye  ;  "  so  they  went  down  to  the  private  entrance 
of  the  school-house,  and  found  an  open  carriage,  with 
Arthur  propped  up  with  pillows  in  it,  looking  already 
better,  Tom  thought. 

They  jumped  upon  to  the  steps  to  shake  hands  with 
him,  and  Torn,  mumbled  thanks  for  the  presents  he  had 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS.  313 

found  in  his  study,  and  looked  round  anxiously  for 
Arthur's  mother. 

East,  who  had  fallen  back  into  his  usual  humor 
looked  quaintly  at  Arthur,  and  said  : 

u  So  you've  been  at  it  again,  through  that  hot- 
headed convert  of  yours  there.  He's  been  making  our 
lives  a  burthen  to  us  all  the  morning  about  using  cribs. 
I  shall  get  floored  to  a  certainty  at  second  lesson,  if 
I'm  called  up." 

Arthur  blushed  and  looked  down.     Tom  struck  in. 

u  Oh,  it's  all  right.  He's  converted  already ;  he 
always  comes  through  the  mud  after  us,  grumbling  and 
sputtering." 

The  clock  struck,  and  they  had  to  go  off  to  school, 
wishing  Arthur  a  pleasant  holiday;  Tom  lingering 
behind  a  moment  to  send  his  thanks  and  love  to 
Arthur's  mother. 

Tom  renewed  the  discussion  after  second  lesson,  and 
succeeded  so  far  as  to  get  East  to  promise  to  give  the 
new  plan  a  fair  trial. 

Encouraged  by  his  success,  in  the  evening,  when 
thev  were  sitting  alone  in  the  large  study,  where  East 
lived  now  almost,  "  vice  Arthur  on  leave,"  after  exam- 
ining the  new  fishing-rod,  which  both  pronounced  to  be 
the  genuine  article,  ("  play  enough  to  throw  a  midge 
tied  on  a  single  hair  against  the  wind,  and  strength 
enough  to  hold  a  grampus,")  they  naturally  began 
talking  about  Arthur.  Tom,  who  was  still  bubbling 
over  with  last  night's  scene,  and  all  the  thoughts  of  the 
last  week,  and  wanting  to  clinch  and  fix  the  whole  in 
his  own  mind,  which  he  could  never  do  without  first 
going  through  the  process  of  belaboring  somebody  else 
with  it  all,  suddenly  rushed  into  the  subject  of  Arthur's 
illness,  and  what  he  had  said  about  death. 


314  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

East  had  given  him  the  desired  opening:  after  a 
serio-comic  grumble,  "that  life  wasn't  worth  having 
now  they  were  tied  to  a  young  beggar  who  was  always 
'  raising  his  standard  ; '  and  that  he,  East,  was  like  a 
prophet's  donkey,  who  was  obliged  to  struggle  on  after 
the  donkey  man  who  went  after  the  prophet ;  that  he 
had  none  of  the  pleasure  of  starting  the  new  crotchets, 
and  didn't  half  understand  them,  but  had  to  take  the 
kicks  and  carry  the  luggage  as  if  he  had  all  the  fun," 
he  threw  his  legs  up  on  to  the  sofa,  and  put  his  hands 
behind  his  head,  and  said  : 

"Well,  after  all,  he's  the  most  wonderful  little  fellow 
I  ever  came  across.  There  ain't  such  a  meek,  humble 
boy  in  the  school.  Hanged  if  I  don't  think  now  really, 
Tom,  that  he  believes  himself  a  much  worse  fellow 
than  you  or  I,  and  that  he  don't  think  he  has  more 
influence  in  the  house  than  Dot  Bowles,  who  came  last 
quarter,  and  ain't  ten  yet.  But  he  turns  you  and  me 
round  his  little  finger,  old  boy — there's  no  mistake 
about  that."  And  East  nodded  at  Tom  sagaciously. 

"  Now  or  never  !"  thought  Tom;  so  shutting  his 
eyes  and  hardening  his  heart,  he  went  straight  at  it, 
repeating  all  that  Arthur  had  said,  as  near  as  he  could 
remember  it,  in  the  very  words,  and  all  he  had  himself 
thought.  The  life  seemed  to  ooze  out  of  it  as  he  went 
on,  and  several  times  he  felt  inclined  to  stop,  give  it  all 
up,  and  change  the  subject.  But  somehow  he  was 
borne  on  ;  he  had  a  necessity  upon  him  to  speak  it  all 
out,  and  did  so.  At  the  end  he  looked  at  East  with 
some  anxiety,  and  was  delighted  to  see  that  that  young 
gentleman  was  thoughtful  and  attentive.  The  fact  is, 
that  in  the  stage  of  his  inner  life  at  which  Tom  had 
lately  arrived,  his  intimacy  with  and  friendship  for  East 
could  not  have  lasted  if  he  had  not  made  him  aware 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  BAYS.  315 

of,  and  a  sharer  in,  the  thoughts  that  were  beginning 
to  exercise  him.  Nor  indeed  could  the  friendship  have 
lasted  if  East  had  shown  no  sympathy  with  these 
thoughts ;  so  that  it  was  a  great  relief  to  have  un- 
bosomed himself,  and  to  have  found  that  his  friend 
could  listen. 

Tom  had  always  had  a  sort  of  instinct  that  East's 
levity  was  only  skin-deep ;  and  this  instinct  was  a  true 
one.  East  had  no  want  of  reverence  for  anything  he 
felt  to  be  real :  but  his  was  one  of  those  natures  that 
burst  into  what  is  generally  called  recklessness  and 
impiety  the  moment  they  feel  that  anything  is  being 
poured  upon  them  for  their  good,  which  does  not  come 
home  to  their  inborn  sense  of  right,  or  which  appeals 
to  anything  like  self-interest  in  them.  Daring  and 
honest  by  nature,  and  outspoken  to  an  extent  which 
alarmed  all  respectabilities,  with  a  constant  fund  of 
animal  health  and  spirits  which  he  did  not  feel  bound 
to  curb  in  any  way,  he  had  gained  for  himself  writh 
the  steady  part  of  the  school  (including  as  well  those 
who  wished  to  appear  steady  as  those  who  really  were 
so),  the  character  of  a  boy  whom  it  would  be  danger- 
ous to  be  intimate  with  ;  while  his  own  hatred  of  every- 
thing cruel,  or  underhand,  or  false,  and  his  hearty 
respect  for  what  he  could  see  to  be  good  and  true,  kept 
off  the  rest. 

Tom,  besides  being  very  like  East  in  many  points  of 
character,  had  largely  developed  in  his  composition 
the  capacity  for  taking  the  weakest  side.  This  is  not 
putting  it  strongly  enough;  it  was  a  necessity  with 
him  ;  he  couldn't  help  it  any  more  than  he  could  eating 
or  drinking.  He  could  never  play  on  the  strongest  side 
with  any  heart  at  football  or  cricket,  and  was  sure  to 
make  friends  with  any  boy  who  was  unpopular,  or 
down  on  his  luck 


316  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Now,  though  East  was  not  what  is  generally  called 
unpopular,  Tom  felt  more  and  more  every  day,  as  their 
characters  developed,  that  lie  stood  alone,  and  did  not 
make  friends  among  their  contemporaries,  and  there- 
fore sought  him  out.  Tom  was  himself  much  more 
popular,  for  his  power  of  detecting  humbug  was  much 
less  acute,  and  his  instincts  wrere  much  more  sociable. 
lie  was  at  this  period  of  his  life,  too  largely  given 
to  taking  people  for  what  they  gave  themselves  out 
to  be;  but  his  singleness  of  heart,  fearlessness  and 
honesty  Avere  just  what  East  appreciated,  and  thus 
the  two  had  been  drawn  into  greater  intimacy. 

This  intimacy  had  not  been  interrupted  by  Tom's 
guardianship  of  Arthur. 

East  had  often,  as  has  been  said,  joined  them  in  read- 
ing the  Bible;  but  their  discussions  had  almost  always 
turned  upon  the  characters  of  the  men  and  women  of 
whom  they  read,  and  not  become  personal  to  them- 
selves. In  fact,  the  two  had  shrunk  from  personal 
religious  discussion,  not  knowing  how  it  might  end  ; 
and  fearful  of  risking  a  friendship  very  dear  to  both 
and  which  they  felt  somehow,  without  quite  know- 
ing why,  would  never  be  the  same,  but  either  tenfold 
stronger  or  sapped  at  its  foundation,  after  such  a  com- 
muning together. 

What  a  bother  all  this  explaining  is !  I  wish  we 
could  get  on  without  it.  But  we  can't.  However, 
you'll  all  find  if  you  haven't  found  it  out  already, 
that  a  time  comes  in  every  human  friendship,  when 
you  must  go  down  into  the  depths  of  yourself,  and 
lay  bare  what  is  there  to  your  friend,  and  wait  in 
fear  for  his  answer.  A  few  moments  may  do  it; 
and  it  may  be  (most  likely  will  be,  as  you  are  English 
boys)  that  you  never  do  it  but  once.  But  done  it 


TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  31 7 

must  be,  if  the  friendship  is  to  be  worth  the  name. 
You  must  find  what  is  there,  at  the  very  root  and 
bottom  of  one  another's  hearts;  and  if  you  are  at  once 
there,  nothing  on  earth  can,  or  at  least  ought  to  sun- 
der you. 

East  had  remained  lying  down  until  Tom  finished 
speaking,  as  if  fearing  to  interrupt  him  ;  he  now  sat 
up  at  the  table,  and  leaned  his  head  on  one  hand,  tak- 
ing up  a  pencil  with  the  other,  and  working  little  holes 
with  it  in  the  table-cover.  After  a  bit  he  looked  up, 
stopped  the  pencil,  and  said,  "  Thank  you  very  much, 
old  fellow  ;  there's  no  other  boy  in  the  house  would 
have  done  it  for  me  but  you  or  Arthur.  I  can  see 
well  enough,"  he  went  on  after  a  pause,  "  all  the  best 
big  fellows  look  on  me  with  suspicion  ;  they  think  I'm 
a  devil-may-care,  reckless  young  scamp.  So  I  am — 
eleven  hours  out  of  twelve — but  not  the  twelfth. 
Then  all  of  our  contemporaries  worth  knowing  follow 
suit,  of  course ;  we're  very  good  friends  at  games  and 
all  that,  but  not  a  soul  of  them  but  you  and  Arthur 
ever  tried  to  break  through  the  crust,  and  see 
whether  there  was  anything  at  the  bottom  of  me ; 
and  then  the  bad  ones  I  won't  stand,  and  they  know 
that." 

"  Don't  you  think  that's  half  fancy,  Harry  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  East  bitterly,  pegging  away 
with  his  pencil.  "  I  see  it  all  plain  enough.  Bless  you, 
you  think  everybody's  as  straightforward  and  kind- 
hearted  as  you  are." 

"  "Well,  but  what's  the  reason  of  it  ?  There  must  be 
a  reason.  You  can  play  all  the  games  as  well  as  any 
one,  and  sing  the  best  song,  and  are  the  best  company 
in  the  house.  You.  fancy  you're  not  liked,  Harry, 
It's  all  fancy." 


318  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  I  only  wish  it  was,  Tom.  I  know  I  could  be  pop- 
ular enough  with  all  the  bad  ones,  but  that  I  won't 
have,  and  the  good  ones  won't  have  me." 

"Why  not?"  persisted  Tom  ;  "  you  don't  drink  or 
swear,  or  get  out  at  night ;  you  never  bully,  or  cheat 
at  lessons.  If  you  only  showed  you  liked  it,  you'd 
have  all  the  best  fellows  in  the  house  running  after 
you." 

"  Not  I,"  said  East.  Then  with  an  effort  he  went 
on,  "I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  I  never  stop  the  sacra- 
ment. I  can  see,  from  the  doctor  downward,  how 
that  tells  against  me." 

"  Yes,  I've  seen  that,"  said  Tom,  "  and  I've  been 
very  sorry  for  it,  and  Arthur  and  I  have  talked  about 
it.  I've  often  thought  of  speaking  to  you,  but  it's  so 
hard  to  begin  on  such  subjects.  I'm  very  glad  you've 
opened  it.  Now,  why  don't  you?" 

"  I've  never  been  confirmed,"  said  East. 

"Not  been  confirmed!"  said  Tom  in  astonishment. 
"I  never  thought  of  that.  Why  weren't  you  con- 
firmed with  the  rest  of  us  nearly  three  years  ago? 
I  always  thought  }rou'd  been  confirmed  at  home." 

"No,"  answered  East,  sorrowfully;  "you  see  this 
was  how  it  happened.  Last  confirmation  was  soon 
after  Arthur  came,  and  you  were  so  taken  up  with 
him,  I  hardly  saw  either  of  you.  Well,  when  the  doc- 
tor sent  round  for  us  about  it,  I  wTas  living  mostly 
with  Green's  set — you  know  the  sort.  They  all  went 
in — I  dare  say  it  was  all  right,  and  they  got  good  by 
it ;  I  don't  want  to  judge  them.  Only  all  I  could  see 
of  their  reasons  drove  me  just  the  other  way.  'T\vas 
' because  the  doctor  liked  it ; '  'no  boy  got  on  who 
didn't  stay  the  sacrament ; '  '  it  was  the  correct  thing,' 
in  fact,  lijse  having  a  good  hat  to  wear  on  Sundays,  I 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  319 

couldn't  stand  it.  I  didn't  feel  that  I  wanted  to  lead 
a  different  life,  I  was  very  well  content  as  I  was,  and 
I  wasn't  going  to  sham  religious  to  curry  favor  with 
the  doctor,  or  any  one  else." 

East  stopped  speaking,  and  pegged  away  more  dili- 
gently than  ever  with  his  pencil.  Tom  was  ready  to 
cry.  He  felt  half  sorry  at  first  that  he  had  been  con- 
firmed himself.  He  seemed  to  have  deserted  his  earliest 
friend,  to  have  left  him  by  himself  at  his  worst  need 
for  those  long  years.  He  got  up  and  went  and  sat  by 
East  and  put  his  arm  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Dear  old  boy,"  he  said,  "  how  careless  and  selfish 
I've  been.  But  why  didn't  you  come  and  talk  to  Ar- 
thur and  me  ? " 

"  I  wish  to  heaven  I  had,"  said  East,  "  but  I  was  a 
fool.  It's  too  late  talking  of  it  now." 

"  Why  too  late  ?  You  want  to  be  confirmed  now, 
don't  you  ? " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  East.  "  I've  thought  about  it  a 
good  deal ;  only  often  I  fancy  I  must  be  changing,  be- 
cause I  see  it's  to  do  me  good  here,  just  what  stopped 
me  last  time.  And  then  I  go  back  again." 

"  I'll  tell  yon  now  how  'twas  with  me,"  said  Tom, 
warmly.  "  If  it  hadn't  been  for  Arthur,  I  should  have 
done  just  as  you  did.  I  hope  I  should.  I  honor  you 
for  it.  But  then  he  made  it  out  just  as  if  it  was  tak- 
ing the  weak  side  before  all  the  world — going  in  once 
for  all  against  everything  that's  strong  and  rich,  and 
proud  and  respectable,  a  little  band  of  brothers  against 
the  whole  world.  And  the  doctor  seemed  to  say  so, 
too,  only  he  said  a  great  deal  more." 

"Ah  !"  groaned  East,  "but  there  again,  that's  just 
another  of  my  difficulties  whenever  I  think  about  the 
matter.  I  don't  want  to  be  one  of  your  saints,  one  of 


820  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

your  elect,  whatever  the  right  phrase  is.  My  sympa- 
thies are  all  the  other  way  ;  with  the  many,  the  poor 
devils  who  run  about  the  streets  and  don't  go  to 
church.  Don't  stare,  Tom ;  mind,  I'm  telling  you  all 
that's  in  my  heart — as  far  as  I  know  it — but  it's  all  a 
muddle.  You  must  be  gentle  with  me  if  you  want  to 
land  me.  Now  I've  seen  a  deal  of  this  sort  of  religion ; 
I  was  bred  up  in  it,  and  I  can't  stand  it.  If  nineteen- 
tvventieths  of  the  world  are  to  be  left  to  uncovenanted 
mercies,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  which  means  in  plain 
English  to  go  to  hell,  and  the  other  twentieth  are  to 
rejoice  at  it  all,  why— 

"Oh!  but,  Harry,  they  ain't,  they  don't,"  broke  in 
Tom,  really  shocked.  "  Oh,  how  I  wish  Arthur  hadn't 
gone!  I'm  such  a  fool  about  these  things.  But  it's 
all  you  want  too,  East ;  it  is  indeed.  It  cuts  both  ways 
somehow,  being  confirmed  and  taking  the  sacrament. 
It  makes  you  feel  on  the  side  of  all  the  good  and  all 
the  bad  too,  of  everybody  in  the  world.  Only  there's 
some  great  dark  strong  power,  which  is  crushing  you 
and  everybody  else.  That's  what  Christ  conquered, 
and  we've  got  to  fight.  What  a  fool  I  am  ?  I  can't  ex- 
plain. If  Arthur  were  only  here  !  " 

"  I  begin  to  get  a  glimmering  of  what  you  mean," 
said  East. 

"I  say  now,"  said  Tom  eagerly,  "  do  you  remember, 
how  we  both  hated  Flashman  ? " 

"Of  course  I  do,"  said  East;  "I  hate  him  still. 
What  then  ? " 

"  Well,  when  I  came  to  take  the  sacrament,  I  had 
a  great  struggle  about  that.  I  tried  to  put  him  out  of 
my  head  ;  and  when  I  couldn't  do  that,  I  tried  to  think 
of  him  as  evil,  as  something  that  the  Lord  who  was 
loving  me  hated,  and  which  I  might  hate  too.  But  it 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  32 i 

wouldn't  do.  I  broke  down:  I  believe  Christ  himself 
broke  me  down;  and  when  the  doctor  gave  me  the 
bread  and  wine,  and  leaned  over  me  praying,  I 
prayed  for  poor  Flashman,  as  if  it  had  been  you  or 
Arthur." 

East  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  on  the  table.  Tom 
could  feel  the  table  tremble.  At  last  he  looked  up, 
"Thank  you  again,  Tom,"  said  he;  "you  don't  know 
what  you  may  have  done  for  me  to-night.  I  think  I 
see  now  how  the  right  sort  of  sympathy  with  poor 
devils  is  got  at." 

"  And  you'll  stop  the  sacrament  next  time,  won't 
you  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  Can  I,  before  I'm  confirmed  ?  " 

"  Go  and  ask  the  doctor." 

"I  will." 

That  very  night,  after  prayers,  East  followed  the 
doctor  and  the  old  verger  bearing  the  candle,  up- 
stairs. Tom  watched,  and  saw  the  doctor  turn  round 
when  he  heard  footsteps  following  him  closer  than 
usual,  and  say,  "  Hah,  East !  Do  you  want  to  speak  with 
me,  my  man  ? " 

"If  you  please,  sir;"  and  the  private  door  closed 
and  Tom  went  to  his  study  in  a  state  of  great  trouble 
of  mind. 

It  was  almost  an  hour  before  East  came  back  :  then 
he  rushed  in  breathless. 

""Well,  it's  all  right,"  he  shouted,  seizing  Tom  by 
the  hand.  "I  feel  as  if  a  ton- weight  were  off  my 
mind." 

"  Hurra,"  said  Tom.  "  I  knew  it  would  be ;  but  tell 
us  all  about  it  ? " 

"  Well,  I  just  told  him  all  about  it.  You  can't  think 
jiow  Idnd  and  gentle  he  was,  the  great  grim  man, 


322  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

•whom  I've  feared  more  that  anybody  on  earth.  When 
I  stuck,  he  lifted  me,  just  as  if  I  had  been  a  little  child. 
And  he  seemed  to  know  all  I'd  felt  and  to  have  gone 
through  it  all.  And  I  burst  out  crying — more  than 
I've  done  this  five  years  ;  and  he  sat  down  by  me,  and 
stroked  my  head  ;  and  I  went  blundering  on,  and  told 
him  all;  much  worse  things  than  I've  told  you.  And 
he  wasn't  shocked  a  bit,  and  didn't  snub  me,  or  tell  me 
I  was  a  fool,  and  it  was  all  nothing  but  pride  or 
Avickedness,  though  I  dare  say  it  was.  And  he  didn't 
tell  me  not  to  follow  out  my  thoughts,  and  he  didn't 
give  me  any  cut-and-dried  explanation.  But  when  I'd 
done  he  just  talked  a  bit — I  can  hardly  remember 
Avhat  he  said  yet ;  but  it  seemed  to  spread  round  me 
like  healing,  and  strength,  and  light ;  and  to  bear  me 
up,  and  plant  me  on  a  rock,  where  I  could  hold  my 
footing,  and  fight  for  myself.  I  don't  know  what  to 
do,  I  feel  so  happy.  And  it's  all  owing  to  you,  dear 
old  boy  !  "  and  he  seized  Tom's  hand  again. 

"And  you're  to  come  to  the  communion?"  said 
Tom. 

"Yes,  and  to  be  confirmed  in  the  holidays." 

Tom's  delight  was  as  great  as  his  friend's.  But  he 
hadn't  yet  had  out  all  his  own  talk,  and  was  bent  on 
improving  the  occasion  :  so  he  proceeded  to  propound 
Arthur's  theory  about  not  being  sorry  for  his  friends' 
deaths,  which  he  had  hitherto  kept  in  the  background, 
and  by  which  he  was  much  exercised ;  for  he  didn't  feel 
it  honest  to  take  what  pleased  him  and  throw  over  the 
rest,  and  was  trying  vigorously  to  persuade  himself 
that  he  should  like  all  his  best  friends  to  die  off- 
hand. 

But  East's  powers  of  remaining  serious  were  ex- 
hausted, and  in  five  minutes  he  was  saying  the  most 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  323 

ridiculous  things  he  could  think  of,  till  Tom  was  almost 
getting  angry  again. 

Despite  of  himself,  however,  he  couldn't  help  laugh- 
ing and  giving  it  up,  when  East  appealed  to  him  with 
"  Well,  Tom,  you  ain't  going  to  punch  my  head,  I 
hope,  because  I  insist  upon  being  sorry  when  you  got 
to  earth  ? " 

And  so  their  talk  finished  for  that  time,  and  they 
tried  to  learn  first  lesson ;  with  very  poor  success,  as 
appeared  next  morning,  when  they  were  called  up  and 
narrowly  escaped  being  floored,  which  ill-luck,  how- 
ever, did  not  sit  heavily  on  either  of  their  souls. 


324  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH. 

*'  Heaven  grant  the  manlier  heart,  that  timely,  ere 
Youth  fly,  with  life's  real  tempest  would  be  coping  ; 
The  fruit  of  dreamy  hoping 
Is  waking  blank  despair." 

— CLOUGH.  Ambarvalia. 

THE  curtain  now  rises  upon  the  last  act  of  our  little 
drama — for  hard-hearted  publishers  warn  me  that  a 
single  volume  must  of  necessity  have  an  end.  Well, 
well !  the  pleasantest  things  must  come  to  an  end.  I 
little  thought  last  long  vacation,  when  I  began  these 
pages  to  help  while  away  some  spare  time  at  a  water- 
ing place,  how  vividly  many  an  old  scene,  which  had 
lain  hid  away  for  years  in  some  dusty  old  corner  of 
my  brain,  would  come  back  again,  and  stand  before 
me  as  clear  and  bright  as  if  it  had  happened  yesterday. 
The  book  has  been  a  most  grateful  task  to  me,  and  I 
only  hope  that  all  you,  my  dear  young  friends  who 
read  it  (friends  assuredly  you  must  be,  if  you  get  as 
far  as  this),  will  be  half  as  sorry  to  come  to  the  last 
stage  as  I  am. 

Not  but  what  there  has  been  a  solemn  and  a  sad 
side  to  it.  As  the  old  scenes  became  living,  and  the 
actors  in  them  became  living  too,  many  a  grave  in  the 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  325 

Crimea  and  distant  India,  as  well  as  in  the  quiet 
churchyards  of  our  dear  old  country,  seemed  to  open 
and  send  forth  their  dead,  and  their  voices  and  looks 
and  ways  were  again  in  one's  ears  and  eyes,  as  in  the 
old  school-days.  But  this  was  not  sad ;  how  should 
it  be,  if  we  believe  as  our  Lord  has  taught  us  ? 
How  should  it  be,  when,  one  more  turn  of  the  wheel, 
and  we  shall  be  by  their  sides  again,  learning  from 
them  again,  perhaps,  as  we  did  when  we  were  new 
boys? 

Then  there  were  others  of  the  old  faces  so  dear  to 
us  once,  who  had  somehow  or  another  just  gone  clean 
out  of  sight — are  they  dead  or  living?  "We  know  not; 
but  the  thought  of  them  brings  no  sadness  with  it. 
Wherever  they  are,  we  can  well  believe  they  are  doing 
God's  work  and  getting  His  wages. 

But  are  there  not  some,  whom  we  still  see  some- 
times in  the  streets,  whose  haunts  and  homes  we  know, 
whom  we  could  probably  find  almost  any  day  in  the 
week  if  we  were  set  to  do  it,  yet  from  whom  we  are 
really  farther  than  we  are  from  the  dead,  and  from 
those  who  have  gone  out  of  our  ken  ?  Yes,  there  are 
and  must  be  such  ;  and  therein  lies  the  sadness  of  old 
school  memories.  Yet  of  these  our  old  comrades, 
from  whom  more  than  time  and  space  separate  us, 
there  are  some,  by  whose  sides  we  can  feel  sure  that 
we  shall  stand  again  when  time  shall  be  no  more. 
We  may  think  of  one  another  now  as  dangerous  fa- 
natics or  narrow  bigots,  with  whom  no  truce  is  possible 
from  whom  we  shall  only  sever  more  and  more  to 
the  end  of  our  lives,  whom  it  would  be  our  respective 
duties  to  imprison  or  hang,  if  we  had  the  power. 
We  must  go  our  way,  and  they  theirs,  as  long  as  flesh 


326  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  spirit  hold  together ;  but  let  our  own  Rugby  poet 
speak  words  of  healing  for  this  trial : 

"  To  veer  how  vain!   on,  onward  strain, 

Brave  barks!  in  light  in  darkness  too; 
Through  winds  and  tides  one  compass  guides, 
To  that,  and  your  own  selves,  be  true. 

"  But,  O  blithe  breeze!  and  O  great  seas! 

Though  ne'er  that  earliest  parting  past, 
On  your  wide  plain  they  join  again, 
Together  lead  them  home  at  last. 

"One  port,  inethought,  alike  they  sought, 

One  purpose  hold  where'er  they  fare. 
O  bounding  breeze!     O  rushing  seas! 
At  last,  at  last,  unite  them  there."* 

This  is  not  mere  longing,  it  is  prophecy.  So  over 
these  two,  our  old  friends  who  are  friends  no  more,  we 
sorrow  not  as  men  without  hope.  It  is  only  for  those 
who  seem  to  us  to  have  lost  compass  and  purpose,  and 
to  be  driven  helplessly  on  rocks  and  quicksands ;  whose 
lives  are  spent  in  the  service  of  the  world,  the  flesh, 
and  the  devil ;  for  self  alone,  and  not  for  their  fellow- 
men,  their  country,  or  their  God,  that  we  must  mourn 
and  pray  without  sure  hope  and  without  light ;  trusting 
only  that  He,  in  whose  hands  they  as  well  as  we  are, 
who  has  died  for  them  as  well  as  for  us,  who  sees  all 
His  creatures 

"With  larger,  other  eyes  than  ours, 
To  make  allowance  for  us  all," 

will,  in  His  own  way  and  at  His  own  time,  lead  them 
also  home. 


Another  two  years  have  passed,  and  it  is  again  the 

*  Clough .     A  mbarvalia. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  327 

end  of  the  summer  half-year  at  Rugby ;  in  fact,  the 
school  has  broken  up.  The  fifth-form  examinations 
were  over  last  week,  and  upon  them  have  followed  the 
speeches,  and  the  sixth- form  examinations  for  exhibi- 
tions ;  and  they  too  are  over  now.  The  boys  have  gone 
to  all  the  winds  of  heaven,  except  the  town  boys  and 
the  eleven,  and  the  few  enthusiasts  besides  who  have 
asked  leave  to  stay  in  their  houses  to  see  the  result  of 
the  cricket-matches.  For  this  year  the  Wellesburn  re- 
turn match  and  the  Marylebone  match  are  played  at 
Rugby,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  town  and  neighbor- 
hood, and  the  sorrow  of  those  aspiring  young  cricketers 
who  have  been  reckoning  for  the  last  three  months  on 
showing  off  at  Lord's  ground. 

The  doctor  started  for  the  lakes  yesterday  morning, 
after  an  interview  with  the  captain  of  the  eleven,  in 
the  presence  of  Thomas,  at  which  he  arranged  in  what 
school  the  cricket  dinners  were  to  be,  and  all  other 
matters  necessary  for  the  satisfactory  carrying  out  of 
the  festivities ;  and  warned  them  as  to  keeping  all 
spirituous  liquors  out  of  the  close,  and  having  the  gates 
closed  by  nine  o'clock. 

The  Wellesburn  match  was  played  out  with  great 
success  yesterday,  the  school  winning  by  three  wickets ; 
and  to-day  the  great  event  of  the  cricketing  year,  the 
Marylebone  match  is  being  pla\^ed.  "What  a  match  it 
has  been  !  The  London  eleven  came  down  by  an  after- 
noon train  yesterday,  in  time  to  see  the  end  of  the 
"Wellesburn  match ;  and  as  soon  as  it  was  over,  their 
leading  men  and  umpire  inspected  the  ground,  criticis- 
ing it  rather  unmercifully.  The  captain  of  the  school 
eleven,  and  one  or  two  others,  who  had  played  the 
Lord's  match  before,  and  knew  old  Mr.  Aislabie  and 
several  of  the  Lord's  men,  accompanied  them:  while 


328  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  rest  of  the  eleven  looked  on  from  under  the  Three 
Trees  with  admiring  eyes,  and  asked  one  another  the 
names  of  the  illustrious  strangers,  and  recounted  how 
many  runs  each  of  them  had  made  in  the  late  matches 
in  BeWs  Life.  They  looked  such  hard-bitten,  wiry, 
whiskered  fellows,  that  their  young  adversaries  felt 
rather  desponding  as  to  the  result  of  the  morrow's 
match.  The  ground  was  at  last  chosen,  and  two  men 
set  to  work  upon  it  to  water  and  roll ;  and  then,  there 
being  yet  some  half-hour  of  daylight,  some  one  had 
suggested  a  dance  on  the  turf.  The  close  was  half  full 
of  citizens  and  their  families,  and  the  idea  was  hailed 
with  enthusiasm.  The  cornopean-player  was  still  on 
the  ground  ;  in  five  minutes  the  eleven  and  half-a-dozen 
of  the  Wellesburn  and  Marylebone  men  got  partners 
somehow  or  another,  and  a  merry  country  dance  was 
going  on,  to  which  every  one  flocked,  and  new  couples 
joined  in  every  minute,  till  there  were  a  hundred  of 
them  going  down  the  middle  and  up  again— and  the 
long  line  of  school  buildings  looked  gravely  down  on 
them,  every  window  glowing  with  the  last  rays  of  the 
western  sun,  and  the  rooks  clanged  about  in  the  tops 
of  the  old  elms,  greatly  excited,  and  resolved  on  hav- 
ing their  country  dance  too,  and  the  great  flag  flapped 
lazily  in  the  gentle  western  breeze.  Altogether  it  was 
a  sight  which  would  have  made  glad  the  heart  of  our 
brave  old  founder,  Lawrence  Sheriff,  if  he  were  half 
as  good  a  fellow  as  I  take  him  to  have  been.  It  was  a 
cheerful  sight  to  see ;  but  what  made  it  so  valuable  in 
the  sight  of  the  captain  of  the  school  eleven  was,  that 
he  there  saw  his  young  hands  shaking  off  their  shy- 
ness and  awe  of  the  Lord's  men,  as  they  crossed  hands 
and  capered  about  on  the  grass  together  ;  for  the  stran- 
gers entered  into  it  all,  and  threw  away  their  cigars, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  329 

and  danced  and  shouted  like  boys ;  while  old  Mr.  Ais- 
labie  stood  by  looking  on  in  his  white  hat,  leaning  on 
a  bat  in  benevolent  enjoyment.  "This  hop  will  be 
worth  thirty  runs  to  us  to-morrow,  and  will  be  the 
making  of  Haggles  and  Johnson,"  thinks  the  young 
leader,  as  he  revolves  many  things  in  his  mind,  stand- 
by the  side  of  Mr.  Aislabie,  whom  he  will  not  leave 
for  a  minute,  for  he  feels  that  the  character  of  the 
school  for  courtesy  is  resting  on  his  shoulders. 

But  when  a  quarter-to-nine  struck,  and  he  saw  old 
Thomas  beginning  to  fidget  about  with  the  key  in  his 
hand,  he  thought  of  the  doctor's  parting  monition  and 
stopped  the  cornopean  at  once,  notwithstanding  the 
loud-voiced  remonstrances  from  all  sides;  and  the 
crowd  scattered  away  from  the  close,  the  eleven  all 
going  into  the  school-house,  where  supper  and  beds 
were  provided  for  them  by  the  doctor's  orders. 

Deep  had  been  the  consultations  at  supper  as  to  the 
order  of  going  in,  who  should  bowl  the  first  over, 
whether  it  would  be  best  to  play  steady  or  freely ;  and 
the  youngest  hands  declared  that  they  shouldn't  be  a 
bit  nervous,  and  praised  their  opponents  as  the  jolliest 
fellows  in  the  world,  except  perhaps,  their  old  friends, 
the  Wellesburn  men.  How  far  a  little  good  nature 
from  their  elders  will  go  with  the  right  sort  of 
boys! 

The  morning  had  dawned  bright  and  warm,  to  the 
intense  relief  of  many  an  anxious  youngster,  up  betimes 
to  mark  the  signs  of  the  weather.  The  eleven  went 
down  in  a  body  before  breakfast,  for  a  plunge  in  the 
cold  bath  in  the  corner  of  the  close.  The  ground  was 
in  splended  order,  and  soon  after  ten  o'clock,  before 
spectators  had  arrived,  all  was  ready,  and  two  of  the 
Lord's  men  took  their  places  at  the  wicket ;  the  school, 


330  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

with  the  usual  liberality  of  young  hands  having  put 
their  adversaries  in  lirst.  Old  Bailey  stepped  up 
to  the  wicket,  and  called  play,  and  the  match  has 
begun. 

"Oh,  well  bowled!  well  bowled,  Johnson !"  cries 
the  captain,  catching  up  the  ball  and  sending  it  high 
above  the  rook  trees,  while  the  third  Marylebone 
man  walks  away  from  the  wicket,  and  old  Bailey 
gravely  sets  up  the  middle  stump  again  and  puts  the 
bails  on. 

"  How  many  runs  ?  "  Away  scamper  three  boys  to 
the  scoring-table,  and  are  back  again  in  a  minute 
among  the  rest  of  the  eleven,  who  are  collected  to- 
gether in  a  knot  between  wicket.  "  Only  eighteen 
runs,  and  three  wickets  down ! "  "  Huzza  for  old 
Rugby  ! "  sings  out  Jack  Haggles  the  long-stop,  tough- 
est and  burliest  of  boys,  commonly  called  "  Swiper 
Jack ; "  and  forthwith  stands  on  his  head,  and  brand- 
ishes his  legs  in  the  air  in  triumph,  till  the  next  boy 
catches  hold  of  his  heels,  and  throws  him  over  on  to  his 
back. 

"  Steady  there,  don't  be  such  an  ass,  Jack,"  says  the 
captain ;  "  we  havn't  got  the  best  wicket  yet.  Ah, 
look  out  now  at  cover-point,"  adds  he,  as  he  sees  a 
long-armed,  bare-headed,  slashing-looking  player 
coming  to  the  wicket.  "  And,  Jack,  mind  your  hits  ; 
he  steals  more  runs  than  any  man  in  England." 

And  they  all  find  that  they  have  got  their  work  to 
do  now :  the  new-comer's  off-hitting  is  tremendous, 
and  his  running  like  a  flash  of  lightning.  He  is  never 
in  his  ground,  except  when  his  wicket  is  down. 
Nothing  in  the  whole  game  so  trying  to  boys ;  he  has 
stolen  three  byes  in  the  first  ten  minutes,  and  Jack 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  331 

Haggles  is  furious,  and  begins  throwing  over  savagely 
to  the  further  wicket,  until  he  is  sternly  stopped  by 
the  captain.  It  is  all  that  young  gentleman  can  do  to 
keep  his  team  steady,  but  he  knows  that  everything 
depends  on  it,  and  faces  his  work  bravely.  The  score 
creeps  up  to  fifty,  the  boys  begin  to  look  blank,  and 
the  spectators,  who  are  now  mustering  strong,  are 
very  silent.  The  ball  flies  off  his  bat  to  all  parts  of 
the  field,  and  he  gives  no  rest  and  no  catches  to  any 
one.  But  cricket  is  full  of  glorious  chances,  and  the 
goddess  who  presides  over  it  loves  to  bring  down  the 
most  skillful  players.  Johnson,  the  young  bowler,  is 
getting  wild,  and  bowls  a  ball  almost  wide  to  the  off ; 
the  batter  steps  out  and  cuts  it  beautifully  to  where 
cover-point  is  standing  very  deep,  in  fact  almost  off  the 
ground.  The  ball  comes  skimming  and  twisting 
along  about  three  feet  from  the  ground  ;  he  rushes  at 
it,  and  it  sticks  somehow  or  other  in  the  fingers  of  his 
left  hand,  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  himself  and  the 
whole  field.  Such  a  catch  hasn't  been  made  in  the 
close  for  years,  and  the  cheering  is  maddening.  "  Pretty 
cricket,"  says  the  captain,  throwing  himself  on  the 
ground  by  the  deserted  wicket  with  a  long  breath  ;  he 
feels  that  a  crisis  has  passed. 

I  wish  I  had  space  to  describe  the  whole  match  ;  how 
the  captain  stumped  the  next  man  off  a  leg  shooter, 
and  bowled  slow  lobs  to  old  Mr.  Aislabie,  who  came  in 
for  the  last  wicket.  How  the  Lord's  men  were  out  by 
half  past  twelve  o'clock  for  ninety-eight  runs.  How 
the  captain  of  the  school  eleven  went  in  first  to  give 
his  men  pluck,  and  scored  twenty -five  in  beautiful 
style ;  how  Rugby  was  only  four  behind  in  the  first 
innings.  What  a  glorious  dinner  they  had  in  the 
fourth-form  school,  and  how  the  cover-point  hitter  sang 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  most  topping  comic  songs,  and  old  Mr.  Aislabie 
made  the  best  speeches  that  ever  were  heard,  afterward. 
But  I  haven't  space,  that's  the  fact,  and  so  you  must 
fancy  it  all,  and  carry  yourselves  on  to  half-past  seven 
o'clock,  when  the  school  are  again  in,  with  five  wickets 
down  and  only  thirty-two  runs  to  make  to  win.  The 
Marylebone  men  played  carelessly  in  their  second  in- 
nings, but  they  are  working  like  horses  now  to  save 
the  match. 

There  is  much  healthy,  hearty,  happy  life  scattered 
up  and  down  the  close ;  but  the  group  to  which  I  beg 
to  call  your  especial  attention  is  there,  on  the  slope 
of  the  island,  which  looks  toward  the  cricket-ground. 
It  consists  of  three  figures  ;  two  are  seated  on  a  bench 
and  one  on  the  ground  at  their  feet.  The  first,  a  tall, 
slight,  and  rather  gaunt  man  with  a  bushy  eyebrow 
and  a  dry  humorous  smile,  is  evidently  a  clergyman. 
He  is  carelessly  dressed,  and  looks  rather  used  up, 
which  isn't  much  to  be  wondered  at,  seeing  that  he  has 
just  finished  six  weeks  of  examination  work;  but  there 
he  basks,  and  spreads  himself  out  in  the  evening  sun, 
bent  on  enjoying  life,  though  he  doesn't  quite  know 
what  to  do  with  his  arms  and  legs.  Surely  it  is  our 
friend  the  young  master,  whom  we  have  had  glimpses 
of  before,  but  his  face  has  gained  a  great  deal  since  we 
last  came  across  him. 

And  by  his  side,  in  white  flannel  shirt  and  trousers, 
straw  hat,  the  captain's  belt,  and  the  untanned  yellow 
cricket  shoes  which  all  the  eleven  wear,  sits  a  strap- 
ping figure  near  six  feet  high,  with  ruddy  tanned  face 
and  whiskers,  curly  brown  hair  and  a  laughing, 
dancing  eye.  He  is  leaning  forward  with  his  elbows 
resting  on  his  knees,  and  dandling  his  favorite  bat, 
with  which  he  has  made  thirty  or  forty  runs  to-day, 


THE  CONVERSATION  DURING  THE  MATCH. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  333 

in  his  strong  brown  hands.  It  is  Tom  Brown,  grown 
into  a  young  man  nineteen  years  old,  a  praepostor 
and  captain  of  the  eleven,  spending  his  last  day  as  a 
Rugby  boy,  and  let  us  hope  as  much  wiser  as  he  is 
bigger  since  we  last  had  the  pleasure  of  coming  across 
him. 

And  at  their  feet  on  the  warm  dry  ground,  similarly 
dressed,  sits  Arthur,  Turkish  fashion,  with  his  bat 
across  his  knees.  He  too  is  no  longer  a  boy,  less  of 
a  boy  in  fact  than  Tom,  if  one  may  judge  from  the 
thoughtfulness  of  his  face,  which  is  somewhat  paler 
too  than  one  could  wish  ;  but  his  figure,  though  slight 
is  well  knit  and  active,  and  all  his  old  timidity  has  dis- 
appeared, and  is  replaced  by  silent  quaint  fun  with 
which  his  face  twinkles  all  over^  as  he  listens  to  the 
broken  talk  between  the  other  two,  in  which  he  joins 
every  now  and  then. 

All  three  are  watching  the  game  eagerly,  and  joining 
in  the  cheering  which  follows  every  good  hit.  It  is 
pleasing  to  see  the  easy,  friendly  footing  which  the 
pupils  are  on  with  their  master,  perfectly  respectful, 
yet  with  no  reserve  and  nothing  forced  in  their  inter- 
course. Tom  has  clearly  abandoned  the  old  theory  of 
"  natural  enemies,"  in  this  case  at  any  rate. 

But  it  is  time  to  listen  to  what  they  are  saying,  and 
see  what  we  can  gather  out  of  it. 

"I  don't  object  to  your  theory,"  says  the  master, 
"  and  I  allow  you  have  made  a  fair  case  for  yourself. 
But  now,  in  such  books  as  Aristophanes  for  instance, 
you've  been  reading  a  play  this  half  with  the  doctor, 
haven't  you?" 

"  Yes,  the  'Knights,' "  answered  Tom. 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  you  would  have  enjoyed  the  won- 
derful humor  of  it  twice  as  much  if  you  bad  taken 
more  pains  with  your  scholarship." 


334  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"Well,  sir,  I  don't  believe  any  boy  in  the  form 
enjoyed  the  sets-to  between  Cleon  and  the  Sausage- 
seller  more  than  I  did — eh,  Arthur?"  said  Tom,  giving 
him  a  stir  with  his  foot. 

"Yes,  I  must  say  he  did,"  said  Arthur.  "I  think 
sir,  you've  hit  upon  the  wrong  book  there." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  the  master.  "Why,  in  those 
very  passages  of  arms,  how  can  you  thoroughly  appre- 
ciate them  unless  you  are  master  of  the  weapons  ?  and 
the  weapons  are  the  language,  which  you,  Brown,  have 
never  half  worked  at;  and  so,  as  I  say,  you  must  have 
lost  all  the  delicate  shades  of  meaning  which  make  the 
best  part  of  the  fun." 

"Oh!  well  played — bravo,  Johnson!"  shouted 
Arthur,  dropping  his  bat  and  clapping  furiously,  and 
Tom  joined  in  with  a  "  Bravo,  Johnson ! "  which  might 
have  been  heard  at  the  chapel. 

"Eh!  what  was  it?  I  didn't  see,"  inquired  the 
master ;  "  they  only  got  one  run,  I  thought  ? " 

"No,  but  such  a  ball,  three  quarters  length  and 
coming  straight  for  his  leg  bail.  Nothing  but  that 
turn  of  the  wrist  could  have  saved  him,  and  he  drew  it 
away  to  leg  for  a  safe  one.  Bravo,  Johnson !  " 

"  How  well  they  are  bowling,  though,"  said  Arthur  ; 
"  they  don't  mean  to  be  beat,  I  can  see." 

"  There  now,"  struck  in  the  master,  "  you  see  that's 
just  what  I  have  been  preaching  this  half-hour.  The 
delicate  play  is  the  true  thing.  I  don't  understand 
cricket,  so  I  don't  enjoy  those  fine  draws  which  you  tell 
me  are  the  best  play,  though  when  you  or  Haggles  hit 
a  ball  hard  away  for  six  1  am  as  delighted  as  any  one. 
Don't  you  see  the  analogy  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Tom,  looking  up  roguishly, 
"  I  see ;  only  the  question  remains  whether  I  should 


TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  335 

have  got  most  good  by  understanding  Greek  particles 
or  cricket  thoroughly.  I'm  such  a  thick,  I  never 
should  have  had  time  for  both." 

"  I  see  you  are  an  incorrigible,"  said  the  master  with 
a  chuckle ;  "  but  I  refute  you  by  an  example.  Arthur 
there  has  taken  in  Greek  and  cricket  too." 

"Yes,  but  no  thanks  to  him  ;  Greek  came  natural  to 
him.  Why,  when  he  first  came  I  remember  he  used  to 
read  "  Herodotus"  for  pleasure  as  I  did  "  Don  Quixote," 
and  couldn't  have  made  a  false  concord  if  he'd  tried 
ever  so  hard — and  then  I  looked  after  his  cricket." 

"  Out !  Bailey  has  given  him  out — do  you  see,  Tom  ? " 
cries  Arthur.  "  How  foolish  of  them  to  run  so  hard." 

"  Well,  it  can't  be  helped,  he  has  played  very  well. 
Whose  turn  is  it  to  go  in  ? " 

"  I  don't  know ;  they've  got  your  list  in  the  tent." 

"  Let's  go  and  see,"  said  Tom,  rising ;  but  at  this 
moment  Jack  Raggles  and  two  or  three  more  came 
running  to  the  island  moat. 

"  Oh,  Brown,  mayn't  I  go  in  next  ? "  shouts  the 
swiper. 

"  Whose  name  is  next  on  the  list  ? "  says  the  cap- 
tain. 

"Winter's,  and   then  Arthur's,"   answers   the  bo/* 
who  carries  it;  "but  there  are  only  twenty-six  runs 
to  get,  and  no  time  to  lose.     I  heard  Mr.  Aislabie  say 
that  the  stumps  must  be  drawn  at  a  quarter  past  eight 
exactly. 

"  Oh,  do  let  the  swiper  go  in,"  chorus  the  boys  :  so 
Tom  yields  against  his  better  judgment. 

"  I  dare  say  now  I've  lost  the  match  by  this  non- 
sense," he  says,  as  he  sits  down  again ;  "  they'll  be 
sure  to  get  Jack's  wicket  in  three  or  four  minutes ; 
however,  you'll  have  the  chance,  sir,  of  seeing  a  hard 


336  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

hit  or  two,"  adds  he,  smiling,  and  turning  to  the 
master. 

"  Come,  none  of  your  irony,  Brown,"  answers  the 
master.  "I'm  beginning  to  understand  the  game 
scientifically.  What  a  noble  game  it  is  too ! " 

"Isn't  it?  But  it's  more  than  a  game.  It's  an 
institution,"  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,"  said  Arthur,  "  the  birthright  of  British  boys, 
old  and  young,  as  habeas  corpus  and  trial  by  jury  are 
of  British  men." 

"The  discipline  and  reliance  on  one  another  which 
it  teaches  is  so  valuable,  I  think,"  went  on  the  master, 
"  it  ought  to  be  such  an  unselfish  game.  It  merges 
the  individual  in  the  eleven  ;  he  doesn't  play  that  he 
may  win,  but  that  his  side  may." 

"  That's  very  true,"  said  Tom,  "  and  that's  why  foot- 
ball and  cricket,  now  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  are  such 
much  better  games  than  fives'  or  hare-and-hounds,  or 
any  others  where  the  object  is  to  come  in  first  or  to 
win  for  one's  self,  and  not  that  one's  side  may  win." 

"  And  then  the  captain  of  the  eleven ! "  said  the 
master,  "  what  a  post  is  his  in  our  school-world ! 
almost  as  hard  as  the  doctor's ;  requiring  skill  and 
gentleness  and  firmness,  and  I  know  not  what  other 
rare  qualities." 

"Which  don't  he  wish  he  may  get?"  said  Tom, 
laughing ;  "  at  any  rate  he  hasn't  got  them  yet,  or  he 
wouldn't  have  been  such  a  flat  to-night  as  to  let  Jack 
Haggles  go  in  out  of  his  turn." 

"  Ah !  the  doctor  never  would  have  done  that,"  said 
Arthur,  demurely.  "  Tom,  you've  a  great  deal  to  learn 
yet  in  the  art  of  ruling." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you'd  tell  the  doctor  so,  then,  and  get 
him  to  let  me  stop  till  I'm  twenty,  I  don't  want  to 
leave,  I'm  sur§." 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  337 

"What  a  sight  it  is,"  broke  in  the  master,  "the 
doctor  as  a  ruler.  Perhaps  ours  is  the  only  little  corner 
of  the  British  empire  which  is  thoroughly,  wisely,  an<? 
strongly  ruled  just  now.  I'm  more  and  more  thankful 
every  day  of  my  life  that  I  came  here  to  be  under 
him." 

"  So  am  I,  I'm  sure,"  said  Tom ;  "  and  more  and 
more  sorry  that  I've  got  to  leave." 

"Every  place  and  thing  one  sees  here  reminds  one 
of  some  wise  act  of  his,"  went  on  the  master.  "  This 
island  now — you  remember  the  time,  Brown,  when  it 
was  laid  out  in  small  gardens,  and  cultivated  by  frost- 
bitten fags  in  February  and  March  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  do,"  said  Tom;  "didn't  I  hate  spend- 
ing two  hours  in  the  afternoons  grubbing  in  the  tough 
dirt  with  the  stump  of  a  fives'-bat  ?  But  turf-cart 
was  good  fun  enough." 

"  I  dare  say  it  was,  but  it  was  always  leading  to 
fights  with  the  townspeople;  and  then  the  stealing 
flowers  out  of  all  the  gardens  in  Eugby  for  the  Easter 
show  was  abominable." 

"  Well,  so  it  was,"  said  Tom,  looking  down,  "  but  we 
fags  couldn't  help  ourselves.  But  what  has  that  to  do 
with  the  doctor's  ruling?" 

"  A  great  deal,  I  think,"  said  the  master ;  "what 
brought  island  fagging  to  an  end  ? " 

"Why,  the  Easter  speeches  were  put  off  till  mid- 
summer," said  Tom,  "  and  the  sixth  had  the  gymnastic 
poles  put  up  here." 

"  Well,  and  who  changed  the  time  of  the  speeches, 
and  put  the  idea  of  gymnastic  poles  into  the  heads  of 
their  worships,  the  sixth  form  ? "  said  the  master. 

"The  doctor,  I  suppose,"  said  Tom.  "I  never 
thought  of  that." 


338  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Of  course  you  didn't,"  said  the  master,  "  or  else, 
fag  as  you  were,  you  would  have  shouted  with  the 
whole  school  against  putting  do\vn  old  customs.  And 
that's  the  way  that  all  the  doctor's  reforms  have  been 
carried  out  when  he  has  been  left  to  himself — quietly 
and  naturally,  putting  a  good  thing  in  the  place  of  a 
bad,  and  letting  the  bad  die  out ;  no  wavering  and  no 
hurry — the  best  thing  that  could  be  done  for  the  time 
being,  and  patience  for  the  rest." 

"  Just  Tom's  own  way,"  chimed  in  Arthur,  nudg- 
ing Tom  with  his  elbow,  "driving  a  nail  where  it 
will  go;"  to  which  allusion  Tom  answered  by  a 
sly  kick. 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  the  master,  innocent  of  the  al- 
lusion and  by -play. 

Meantime  Jack  Raggles,  with  his  sleeves  tucked  up 
above  his  great,  brown  elbows,  scorning  pads  and 
gloves,  has  presented  himself  at  the  wicket ;  and  hav- 
ing run  one  for  a  forward  drive  of  Johnson's,  is  about 
to  receive  his  first  ball.  There  are  only  twenty-four 
runs  to  make,  and  four  wickets  to  go  down ;  a  winning 
match  if  they  play  decently  steady.  The  ball  is  a 
very  swift  one,  and  rises  fast,  catching  Jack  on  the 
outside  of  the  thigh,  and  bounding  away  as  if  from 
india-rubber,  while  they  run  two  for  a  leg-bye  amid 
great  applause,  and  shouts  from  Jack's  man}7  admirers. 
The  next  ball  is  a  beautifully-pitched  ball  for  the  outer 
stump,  which  the  reckless  and  unfeeling  Jack  catches 
hold  of  and  hits  right  round  to  leg  for  five,  while  the 
applause  becomes  deafening  :  only  seventeen  runs  to 
get  with  four  wickets — the  game  is  all  but  ours! 

It  is  "  over  "  now,  and  Jack  walks  swaggering  about 
his  wicket,  with  the  bat  over  his  shoulder,  while  Mr. 
Aislabie  holds  a  short  parley  with  his  men.  Then  the 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

cover-point  hitter,  that  cunning  man,  goes  on  to  bowl 
slow  twisters.  Jack  waves  his  hand  triumphantly  to- 
ward the  tent,  as  much  as  to  sa,y,  "  See  if  1  don't  fin- 
ish it  all  off  now  in  three  hits." 

Alas,  m  v  son  Jack !  the  enemy  is  too  old  for  thee. 
The  first  ball  of  the  over  Jack  steps  out  and  meets, 
swiping  with  all  his  force.  If  he  had  only  allowed  for 
the  twist !  but  he  hasn't,  and  so  the  ball  goes  spinning 
up  straight  into  the  air,  as  if  it  would  never  come 
down  again.  Away  runs  Jack,  shouting  and  trusting 
to  the  chapter  of  accidents,  but  the  bowler  runs 
steadily  under  it,  judging  every  spin,  and  calling  out 
"  I  have  it."  catches  it,  and  playfully  pitches  it  on  to 
the  back  of  the  stalwart  Jack,  who  is  departing  with  a 
rueful  countenance. 

"  I  knew  how  it  would  be,"  says  Tom,  rising. 
"  Come  along,  the  game's  getting  very  serious." 

So  they  leave  the  island  and  go  to  the  tent,  and  after 
deep  consultation  Arthur  is  sent  in,  and  goes  off  to  the 
wicket  with  a  last  exhortation  from  Tom  to  play  steady 
and  keep  his  bat  straight.  To  the  suggestions  that 
Winter  is  the  best  bat  left,  Tom  only  replies,  "  Arthur 
is  the  steadiest,  and  Johnson  will  make  the  runs  if  the 
wicket  is  only  kept  up." 

"  I  am  surprised  to  see  Arthur  in  the  eleven,"  said 
the  master,  as  they  stood  together  in  front  of  the 
dense  crowd,  which  was  now  closing  in  round  the 
gound. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  quite  sure  that  he  ought  to  be  in  for 
his  play,"  said  Tom,  "  but  I  couldn't  help  putting  him 
in.  It  will  do  him  so  much  good,  and  you  can't  think 
what  I  owe  him." 

The  master  smiled.  The  clock  strikes  eight,  and  the 
whole  field  becomes  fevered  with  excitement.  Arthur, 


340  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

after  two  narrow  escapes,  scores  one  ;  and  Johnson 
gets  the  ball.  The  bowling  and  fielding  are  superb, 
and  Johnson's  batting  worthy  the  occasion.  He  makes 
here  a  two,  and  there  a  one,  managing  to  keep  the  ball 
to  himself,  and  Arthur  backs  up  and  runs  perfectly  : 
onl}r  eleven  runs  to  make  now,  and  the  crowd  scarcely 
breathe.  At  last  Arthur  gets  the  ball  again,  and  ac- 
tually drives  it  forward  for  two,  and  feels  prouder 
than  when  he  got  the  three  best  prizes,  at  hear- 
ing Tom's  shout  of  joy,  "  Well  played,  well  played, 
young  'un ! " 

But  the  next  ball  is  too  much  for  a  young  hand, 
and  his  bails  fly  different  ways.  Nine  runs  to  make, 
and  too  wickets  to  go  down — it  is  too  much  for 
human  nerves. 

Before  Winter  can  get  in,  the  omnibus  which  is  to 
take  the  Lord's  men  to  the  train  pulls  up  at  the  side  of 
the  close,  and  Mr.  Aislabie  and  Tom  consult,  and  give 
out  that  the  stumps  will  be  drawn  after  the  next  over. 
And  so  ends  the  great  match.  Winter  and  Johnson 
carry  out  their  bats,  and,  it  being  a  one  day's  match, 
the  Lord's  men  are  declared  the  winners,  they  having 
scored  the  most  in  the  first  innings. 

But  such  a  defeat  is  a  victory  :  so  think  Tom  and  all 
the  school  eleven,  as  they  accompany  their  conquerors 
to  the  omnibus,  and  send  them  off  with  three  ringing 
cheers,  after  Mr.  Aislabie  has  shaken  hands  all  round, 
saying  to  Tom,  "  I  must  compliment  you,  sir,  on  your 
eleven,  and  I  hope  we  shall  have  you  fora  member  if 
you  come  up  to  town." 

As  Tom  and  the  rest  of  the  eleven  were  turning  back 
into  the  close,  and  everybody  was  beginning  to  cry  out 
for  another  country-dance,  encouraged  by  the  success 
of  the  night  before,  the  young  master,  who  was  just 


TOM   BROWN'S   SCHOOL  DAYS.  341 

leaving  the  close,  stopped  him,  and  asked  him  to 
come  up  to  tea  at  half-past  eight,  adding,  "  I  won't 
keep  you  more  than  half-an-hour,  and  ask  Arthur  to 
come  up  too." 

"  I'll  come  up  with  you  directly,  if  you'll  let  me," 
said  Tom,  "  for  I  feel  rather  melancholy,  and  not 
quite  up  to  the  country  dance  and  supper  with  the 
rest." 

"Do  by  all  means,"  said  the  master;  "I'll  wait  here 
for  you." 

So  Tom  went  off  to  get  his  boots  and  things  from 
the  tent,  to  tell  Arthur  of  the  invitation,  and  to  speak 
to  his  second  in  command  about  stopping  the  dancing 
and  shutting  up  the  close  as  soon  as  it  grew  dusk. 
Arthur  promised  to  follow  as  soon  as  he  had  had  a  dance. 
So  Tom  handed  his  things  over  to  the  man  in  charge 
of  the  tent,  and  walked  quietly  away  to  the  gate  where 
the  master  was  waiting,  and  the  two  took  their  way 
together  up  the  Hillmorton  road. 

Of  course  they  found  the  master's  house  locked  up, 
and  all  the  servants  away  in  the  close,  about  this  time 
no  doubt  footing  it  away  on  the  grass  with  extreme 
delight  to  themselves,  and  in  utter  oblivion  of  the  un- 
fortunate bachelor  their  master,  whose  one  enjoyment 
in  the  shape  of  meals  was  his  "  dish  of  tea  "  (as  our 
grandmothers  called  it)  in  the  evening;  and  the  phrase 
was  apt  in  his  case,  for  he  always  poured  his  out  into 
the  saucer  before  drinking.  Great  was  the  good  man's 
horror  at  finding  himself  shut  out  of  his  own  house. 
Had  he  been  alone,  he  would  have  treated  it  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  would  have  strolled  contentedly 
up  and  down  his  gravel-walk  until  some  one  came 
home;  but  he  was  hurt  at  the  stain  on  his  character  of 
host,  especially  as  the  guest  was  a  pupil.  However,  the 


34.2  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

guest  seemed  to  think  it  a  great  joke,  and  presently  as 
they  poked  about  round  the  house,  mounted  a  wall, 
from  which  he  could  reach  a  passage  window  :  the 
window  as  it  turned  out,  was  not  bolted,  so  in  an- 
other minute  Tom  was  in  the  house  and  down  at  the 
front  door,  which  he  opened  from  inside.  The  master 
chuckled  grimly  at  this  burglarious  entry,  and  insisted 
on  leaving  the  hall-door  and  two  of  the  front  windows 
open,  to  frighten  the  truants  on  their  return  ;  and  then 
the  two  set  about  foraging  for  tea,  in  which  operation 
the  master  was  much  at  fault,  having  the  faintest 
possible  idea  of  where  to  find  anything,  and  being 
moreover  wrondrously  short-sighted ;  but  Tom  by  a 
sort  of  instinct  knew  the  right  cupboards  in  the  kitchen 
and  pantry,  and  soon  managed  to  place  on  the  snug- 
gery table  better  materials  for  a  meal  than  had  ap- 
peared there  probably  during  the  reign  of  his  tutor, 
who  was  then  and  there  initiated,  among  other  things, 
into  the  excellence  of  that  mysterious  condiment,  a 
dripping  cake.  The  cake  was  newly  baked,  and  all 
rich  and  flaky;  Tom  had  found  it  reposing  in  the 
cook's  private  cupboard,  awaiting  her  return  ;  and  as  a 
warning  to  her,  they  finished  it  to  the  last  crumb. 
The  kettle  sang  away  merrily  on  the  hob  of  the  snug- 
gery, for,  notwithstanding  the  time  of  year,  they 
lighted  a  fire,  throwing  both  the  windows  wide  open 
at  the  same  time.  The  heap  of  books  and  papers  were 
pushed  away  to  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and  the 
great  solitary  engraving  of  King's  College  chapel  over 
the  mantelpiece  looked  less  stiff  than  usual,  as  they 
settled  themselves  down  in  the  twilight  to  the  serious 
drinking  of  tea. 

After  some  talk  on  the  match,  and  other  indifferent 
subjects,  the  conversation  came  naturally  back  to  Tom's 


TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DATS.  343 

approaching  departure,  over  which  he  began  again  to 
make  his  moan. 

"Well,  we  shall  all  miss  you  quite  as  much  as  you 
will  miss  us,"  said  the  master.  "  You  are  the  Nestor 
of  the  school  now,  are  you  not  ? " 

"  Yes,  ever  since  East  left,"  answered  Tom. 

"  By-the-bye,  have  you  heard  from  him  ? " 

"Yes,  I  had  a  letter  in  February,  just  before  he 
started  for  India  to  join  his  regiment." 

"  He  will  make  a  capital  officer." 

"Aye,  won't  he!"  said  Tom,  brightening;  "no  fel- 
low could  handle  boys  better,  and  I  suppose  soldiers 
are  very  like  boys.  And  he'll  never  tell  them  to  go 
where  he  won't  go  himself.  No  mistake  about  that — 
a  braver  fellow  never  walked." 

"  His  year  in  the  sixth  will  have  taught  him  a  good 
deal  that  will  be  useful  to  him  now." 

"  So  it  will,"  said  Tom,  staring  into  the  fire.  "  Poor 
dear  Harry,"  he  went  on,  "  how  well  I  remember  the 
day  we  were  put  out  of  the  twenty.  How  he  rose  to 
the  situation,  and  burned  his  cigar-cases,  and  gave  away 
his  pistols,  and  pondered  on  the  constitutional  authority 
of  the  sixth  and  his  new  duties  to  the  doctor,  and  the 
fifth  form,  and  the  fags.  Aye,  and  no  fellow  ever  acted 
up  to  them  better,  though  he  was  always  a  people's 
man — for  the  fags,  and  against  contsituted  authorities. 
He  couldn't  help  that,  you  know.  I'm  sure  the  doc- 
tor must  have  liked  him  ? "  said  Tom,  looking  up  in- 
quiringly. 

"  The  doctor  sees  the  good  in  every  one.  and  appre- 
ciates it,"  said  the  master,  dogmatically  ;  "  but  I  hope 
East  will  get  a  good  colonel.  He  won't  do  if  he  can't 
respect  those  above  him.  How  long  it  took  him,  even 
here,  to  learn  the  lesson  of  obeying." 


344  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"Well,  I  wish  I  were  alongside  of  him,"  said  Tom. 
"  If  I  can't  be  at  Rugby,  I  want  to  be  at  work  in  the 
world,  and  not  dawdling  away  three  years  at  Oxford." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  at  work  in  the  world  ? ' : 
said  the  master,  pausing,  with  his  lips  close  to  his  sau- 
cerful  of  tea,  and  peering  at  Tom.  over  it. 

"Well,  I  mean  real  work;  one's  profession;  what- 
ever one  will  have  really  to  do,  and  make  one's  living 
by.  I  want  to  be  doing  some  real  good,  feeling  that  I 
am  not  only  at  play  in  the  world,"  answered  Tom, 
rather  puzzled  to  find  out  himself  what  he  really  did 
mean. 

"You  are  mixing  up  two  very  different  things  in, 
your  head,  I  think,  Brown,"  said  the  master,  putting 
down  the  empty  saucer,  "and  you  ought  to  get  clear 
about  them.  You  talk  of  'working  to  get  your  living,' 
and  '  doing  some  real  good  in  the  world,'  in  the  same 
breath.  Now,  you  may  be  getting  a  very  good  living 
in  a  profession,  and  yet  doing  no  good  at  all  in  the 
world,  but  quite  the  contrary,  at  the  same  time.  Keep 
the  latter  before  you  as  your  only  object,  and  you  will 
be  right,  whether  you  make  a  living  or  not ;  but  if  you 
dwell  on  the  other,  you'll  very  likely  drop  into  mere 
money-making,  and  let  the  world  take  care  of  itself 
for  good  or  evil.  Don't  be  in  a  hurry  about  finding 
your  work  in  the  world  for  yourself ;  you  are  not  old 
enough  to  judge  for  yourself  yet,  but  just  look  about 
you  in  the  place  you  find  yourself  in,  and  try  to  make 
things  a  little  better  and  honester  there.  You'll  find 
plenty  to  keep  your  hand  in  at  Oxford,  or  wherever 
else  you  go.  And  don't  be  led  away  to  think  this  part 
of  the  world  important,  and  that  unimportant.  Every 
corner  of  the  world  is  important.  No  man  knows 
whether  this  part  or  that  is  most  so,  but  every  man, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  345 

may  do  some  honest  work  in  his  own  corner."  And 
then  the  good  man  went  on  to  talk  wisely  to  Tom  of 
the  sort  of  work  which  he  might  take  up  as  an  under- 
graduate ;  and  warned  him  of  the  prevalent  university 
sins,  and  explained  to  him  the  many  and  great  differ- 
ences between  university  and  school  life ;  till  the  twi- 
light changed  into  darkness,  and  they  heard  the  truant 
servants  stealing  in  by  the  back  entrance. 

"I  wonder  where  Arthur  can  be,"  said  Tom  at  last 
looking  at  his  watch  :  "  why  it's  nearly  half-past  nine 
already." 

"  Oh,  he  is  comfortably  at  supper  with  the  eleven, 
forgetful  of  his  oldest  friends,'*  said  the  master.  "Noth- 
ing has  given  me  greater  pleasure,"  he  went  on, 
"  than  your  friendship  for  him  ;  it  has  been  the  making 
of  you  both." 

"  Of  me,  at  any  rate,"  answers  Tom ;  "  I  should 
never  have  been  here  now  but  for  him.  It  was  the 
luckiest  chance  in  the  world  that  sent  him  to  Rugby, 
and  made  him  my  chum." 

"Why  do  you  talk  of  lucky  chances?"  said  the 
master ;  "  I  don't  know  that  there  are  any  such  things 
in  the  world ;  at  any  rate  there  was  neither  luck  nor 
chance  in  that  matter." 

Tom  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  and  he  went  on. 
"  Do  you  remember  when  the  doctor  lectured  you  and 
East  at  the  end  of  one  half-year,  when  you  were 
in  the  shell,  and  had  been  getting  into  all  sorts  of 
scrapes  ? " 

"  Yes,  well  enough,"  said  Tom ;  "  it  was  a  half- 
year  before  Arthur  came." 

"  Exactly  so,"  answered  the  master.  "  Now,  I  was 
with  him  a  few  minutes  afterward,  and  he  was  in  great 
distress  about  you  two.  And,  after  some  talk,  we  both 


346  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

agreed  that  you  in  particular  wanted  some  object  in 
the  school  beyond  games  and  mischief;  for  it  was 
quite  clear  that  you  never  would  make  the  regular 
school  work  your  first  object.  And  so  the  doctor,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  next  half-year,  looked  out  the 
best  of  the  new  boys,  and  separated  you  and  East,  and 
put  the  young  boy  into  your  study,  in  the  hope  that 
when  you  had  somebody  to  lean  on  you,  you  would 
begin  to  stand  a  little  steadier  yourself,  and  get  manli- 
ness and  thoughtfulness.  And  I  can  assure  you  he  has 
watched  the  experiment  ever  since  with  great  satis- 
faction. Ah  !  not  one  of  you  boys  will  ever  know  the 
anxiety  you  have  given  him,  or  the  care  with  which 
he  has  watched  over  every  step  in  your  school  lives." 

Up  to  this  time,  Tom  had  never  wholly  given  in  to 
or  understood  the  doctor.  At  first  he  had  thoroughly 
feared  him.  For  some  years,  as  I  have  tried  to  show, 
he  had  learned  to  regard  him  with  love  and  respect, 
and  to  think  him  a  very  great  and  wise  and  good  man. 
But,  as  regarded  his  own  position  in  the  school,  of 
which  he  was  no  little  proud,  Tom  had  no  idea  of  giv- 
ing any  one  credit  for  it  but  himself;  and,  truth  to  tell, 
was  a  very  self-conceited  young  gentleman  on  the 
subject.  He  was  wont  to  boast  that  he  had  fought 
his  own  way  fairly  up  the  school,  and  had  never  made 
up  to,  or  been  taken  up  by  any  big  fellow  or  master, 
and  that  it  was  now  quite  a  different  place  from  what 
it  was  when  he  first  came.  And,  indeed,  though  he 
didn't  actually  boast  of  it,  yet  in  his  secret  soul  he  did 
to  a  great  extent  believe,  that  the  great  reform  in  the 
school  had  been  owing  quite  as  much  to  himself  as  to 
any  one  else.  Arthur,  he  acknowledged,  had  done 
him  good,,  and  taught  him  a  good  deal :  so  had  other 
boys  in  different  ways,  but  they  had  not  had  the  same 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  34? 

means  of  influence  on  the  school  in  general ;  and  as  for 
the  doctor,  why,  he  was  a  splendid  master,  but  every 
one  knew  that  masters  could  do  very  little  out  of 
school  hours.  In  short,  he  felt  on  terms  of  equality 
with  his  chief,  so  far  as  the  social  state  of  the  school 
was  concerned,  and  thought  that  the  doctor  would 
find  it  no  easy  matter  to  get  on  without  him.  More- 
over, his  school  Toryism  was  still  strong,  and  he  looked 
still  with  some  jealousy  on  the  doctor,  as  somewhat  of 
a  fanatic  in  the  matter  of  change  ;  and  thought  it  very 
desirable  for  the  school  that  he  should  have  some  wise 
person  (such  as  himself)  to  look  sharply  after  vested 
school-rights,  and  see  that  nothing  was  done  to  the 
injury  of  the  republic  without  due  protest. 

It  was  a  new  light  to  him  to  find,  that,  besides 
teaching  the  sixth,  and  governing  and  guiding  the 
whole  school,  editing  classics,  and  writing  histories, 
the  great  head-master  had  found  time  in  those  busy 
years  to  watch  over  the  career  even  of  him,  Tom 
Brown,  and  his  particular  friends — and,  no  doubt,  of 
fifty  other  boys  at  the  same  time ;  and  all  this  without 
taking  the  least  credit  to  himself,  or  seeming  to  know 
or  let  any  one  else  know,  that  he  ever  thought  particu- 
larly of  any  boys  at  all. 

However  the  doctor's  victory  was  complete  from 
that  moment  over  Tom  Brown  at  any  rate.  He  gave 
way  at  all  points,  and  the  enemy  marched  right  over 
him,  cavalry,  infantry,  and  artillery,  the  land  trans- 
port corps,  and  the  camp  followers.  It  had  taken 
eight  long  years  to  do  it,  but  now  it  was  done 
thoroughly,  and  there  wasn't  a  corner  of  him  left 
which  didn't  believe  in  the  doctor.  Had  he  returned 
to  school  again,  and  the  doctor  begun  the  half-year 
by  abolishing  fagging,  and  foot-ball,  and  the  Saturday 


348  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

half-holiday,  or  all  or  any  of  the  most  cherished  school 
institutions,  Tom  would  have  supported  him  with  the 
blindest  faith.  And  so,  after  a  half  confession  of 
his  previous  shortcomings,  and  sorrowful  adieus  to  his 
tutor,  from  whom  he  received  two  beautifully  bound 
volumes  of  the  doctor's  sermons,  as  a  parting  present 
he  marched  down  to  the  school-house,  a  hero  worshiper, 
who  would  have  satisfied  the  soul  of  Thomas  Carlyle 
himself. 

There  he  found  the  eleven  at  high  jinks  after  sup- 
per, Jack  Raggles  shouting  comic  songs,  and  perform- 
ing feats  of  strength;  and  was  greeted  by  a  chorus 
of  mingled  remonstrance  at  his  desertion,  and  joy  at 
his  reappearance.  And  falling  in  with  the  humor  of 
the  evening,  was  soon  as  great  a  boy  as  all  the  rest ; 
and  at  ten  o'clock  was  chaired  round  the  quadrangle, 
on  one  of  the  hall  benches,  borne  aloft  by  the  eleven, 
shouting  in  chorus  :  "For  he's  a  jolly  good  fellow," 
while  old  Thomas,  in  a  melting  mood,  and  the  other 
school-house  servants,  stood  looking  on. 

And  the  next  morning  after  breakfast  he  squared  up 
all  the  cricketing  accounts,  went  round  to  his  trades- 
men and  other  acquaintance,  and  said  his  hearty  good- 
byes, and  by  twelve  o'clock  was  in  the  train,  and  away 
for  London,  no  longer  a  school-boy  ;  and  divided  in  his 
thoughts  bet\veen  hero-worship,  honest  regrets  over 
the  long  stage  of  his  life  which  was  now  slipping  out 
of  sight  behind  him,  and  hopes  and  resolves  for  the 
next  stage,  upon  which  he  was  entering  with  all  the 
confidence  of  a  young  traveler. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  319 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FINIS. 

"  Strange  friend,  past,  present,  and  to  be; 
Loved  deeplier.  darklier  understood; 
Behold,  I  dream  a  dream  of  good, 
And  mingle  all  the  world  with  thee." 

— TENNYSON. 

IN  the  summer  of  1842,  our  hero  stopped  once  again 
at  the  well-known  station :  and  leaving  his  bag  and 
fishing  rod  with  a  porter,  walked  slowly  and  sadly  up 
toward  the  town.  It  was  now  July.  He  had  rushed 
away  from  Oxford  the  moment  that  term  was  over, 
for  a  fishing  ramble  in  Scotland  with  two  college 
friends,  and  had  been  for  three  weeks  living  on  oatcake, 
mutton-hams,  and  whiskey,  in  the  wildest  parts  of 
Skye.  They  had  descended  one  sultry  evening  on  the 
little  inn  at  Kyle  Rhea  ferry,  and  while  Tom  and  an- 
other of  the  party  put  their  tackle  together  and  began 
exploring  the  stream  for  a  sea-trout  for  supper,  the 
third  strolled  into  the  house  to  arrange  for  their  enter- 
tainment. Presently  he  came  out  in  a  loose  blouse  and 
slippers,  a  short  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  an  old  news- 
paper in  his  hand,  and  threw  himself  on  the  heathery 
scrub  which  met  the  shingle,  within  easy  hail  of  the 
fishermen.  There  he  lay,  the  picture  of  free-and-easy, 
loafing,  hand-to-mouth  young  England,  "  improving  his 
dind,"  as  he  shouted  to  them,  by  the  perusal  of  the 


350  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

fortnight-old  weekly  paper,  soiled  with  the  marks  of 
toddy-glasses  and  tobacco-ashes,  the  legacy  of  the  last 
traveler,  which  he  had  hunted  out  from  the  kitchen  of 
the  little  hostelry  ;  and  being  a  youth  of  a  communica- 
tive turn  of  mind,  began  imparting  the  contents  to  the 
fishermen  as  he  went  on. 

"What  a  bother  they  are  making  about  these 
wretched  corn-laws ;  here's  three  or  four  columns  full 
of  nothing  but  sliding-scales  and  fixed  duties.  Hang 
this  tobacco,  it's  always  going  out ! — Ah,  here's  some- 
thing better — a  splendid  match  between  Kent  and  Eng- 
land, Brown  !  Kent  winning  by  three  wickets.  Felix 
fifty-six  runs  without  a  chance,  and  not  out ! " 

Tom,  intent  on  a  fish  which  had  risen  at  him  twice, 
answered  only  with  a  grunt. 

"Anything  about  the  Goodwood^"  called  out  the 
third  man. 

"  Rory-o  More  drawn.  Butterfly  colt  amiss,"  shouted 
the  student. 

"  Just  my  luck,"  grumbled  the  inquirer,  jerking  his 
flies  off  the  water,  and  throwing  again  with  a  heavy 
sullen  splash,  and  frightening  Tom's  fish. 

"  I  say,  can't  you  throw  lighter  over  there  ?  we 
ain't  fishing  for  grampuses,"  shouted  Tom  across  the 
stream. 

"  Hullo,  Brown  !  here's  something  for  you,"  called 
out  the  reading  man  next  moment.  "  Why,  your  old 
master,  Arnold  of  Rugby,  is  dead." 

Tom's  hand  stopped  half-way  in  his  cast,  and  his 
line  and  flies  went  all  tangling  round  and  round  his 
rod ;  you  might  have  knocked  him  over  with  a  feather. 
Neither  of  his  companions  took  any  notice  of  him, 
luckily ;  and  with  a  violent  effort  he  set  to  work 
mechanically  to  disentangle  his  line.  He  felt  com- 


TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  351 

pletely  carried  off  his  moral  and  intellectual  legs,  as  if 
he  had  lost  his  standing-point  in  the  invisible  world. 
Besides  which,  the  deep  loving  loyalty  which  he  felt 
for  his  old  leader  made  the  shock  intensely  painful.  It 
was  the  first  great  wrench  of .  his  life,  the  first  gap 
which  the  angel  Death  had  made  in  his  circle,  and  he 
felt  numbed,  and  beaten  down  and  spiritless.  Well, 
well !  I  believe  it  was  good  for  him  and  for  many 
others  in  like  case  ;  who  had  to  learn  by  that  loss,  that 
the  soul  of  man  cannot  stand  or  lean  upon  any  human 
prop,  however  strong,  and  wise,  and  good  ;  but  that  He 
upon  whom  alone  it  can  stand  and  lean  will  knock 
away  all  such  props  in  His  own  wise  and  merciful  way, 
until  there  is  no  ground  or  stay  left  but  Himself,  the 
Eock  of  Ages,  upon  whom  alone  a  sure  foundation  for 
every  soul  of  man  is  laid. 

As  he  wearily  labored  at  his  line,  the  thought  struck 
him,  "  It  may  all  be  false,  a  mere  newspaper  lie,"  and 
he  strode  up  to  the  recumbent  smoker. 

"  Let  me  look  at  the  paper,"  said  he. 

"  Nothing  else  in  it,"  answered  the  other,  handing  it 
up  to  him  listlessly. — "  Hullo,  Brown !  what's  the 
matter,  old  fellow — ain't  you  well  ? " 

"Where  is  it?"  said  Tom,  turning  over  the  leaves, 
his  hands  trembling,  and  his  eyes  swimming,  so  that 
he  could  not  read. 

"What?  What  are  you  looking  for?"  said  his 
friend,  jumping  up  and  looking  over  his  shoulder. 

"  That— about  Arnold,"  said  Tom. 

"  Oh,  here,"  said  the  other,  putting  his  finger  on  the 
paragraph.  Tom  read  it  over  and  over  again  ;  there 
could  be  no  mistake  of  identity,  though  the  account 
was  short  enough. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  he  at  last,  dropping  the  paper. 


352  TOM  UROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  I  shall  go  for  a  walk :  don't  you  and  Herbert  wait 
supper  for  me."  And  away  he  strode,  up  over  the 
moor  at  the  back  of  the  house,  to  be  alone,  and  master 
his  grief  if  possible. 

His  friend  looked  after  him,  sympathizing  and  won- 
dering, and  knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  walked 
over  to  Herbert.  After  a  short  parley,  they  walked 
together  up  to  the  house. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  confounded  newspaper  has  spoiled 
Brown's  fun  for  this  trip." 

"  How  odd  that  he  should  be  so  fond  of  his  old 
master,"  said  Herbert.  Yet  they  also  were  both  public- 
school  men. 

The  two,  however,  notwithstanding  Tom's  prohibi- 
tion, waited  supper  for  him,  and  had  everything  ready 
when  he  came  back  some  half-an-hour  afterward.  But 
he  could  not  join  in  their  cheerful  talk,  and  the  party 
was  soon  silent,  notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  all  three. 
One  thing  only  had  Tom  resolved,  and  that  was,  that 
he  couldn't  stay  in  Scotland  any  longer ;  he  felt  an 
irresistible  longing  to  get  to  Rugby,  and  then  home, 
and  soon  broke  it  to  the  others,  who  had  too  much  tact 
to  oppose. 

So  by  daylight  the  next  morning  he  was  marching 
through  Ross-shire,  and  in  the  evening  hit  the  Cale- 
donian canal,  took  the  next  steamer,  and  traveled  as 
fast  as  boat  and  railway  could  carry  him  to  the  Rugby 
station. 

As  he  walked  up  to  the  town,  he  felt  shy  and 
afraid  of  being  seen,  and  took  the  back  streets;  why, 
he  didn't  know,  but  he  followed  his  instincts.  At 
the  school-gates  he  made  a  dead  pause;  there  was 
not  a  soul  in  the  quadrangle — all  was  lonely,  and 
silent,  and  sad.  So  with  another  effort  he  strode 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  353 

through  the  quadrangle,  and  into  the  school-house 
offices. 

He  found  the  little  matron  in  her  room  in  deep 
mourning ;  shook  her  hand,  tried  to  talk,  and  moved 
nervously  about.  She  was  evidently  thinking  of 
the  same  subject  as  he,  but  he  couldn't  begin  talk- 
ing. 

"  Where  shall  I  find  Thomas  ? "  said  he  at  last  get- 
ting desperate. 

"  In  the  servants'  hall,  I  think,  sir.  But  won't  you 
take  anything?"  said  the  matron,  looking  rather  dis- 
appointed. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  he,  and  strode  off  again  to 
find  the  old  verger,  who  was  sitting  in  his  little  den  as 
of  old,  puzzling  over  hieroglyphics. 

He  looked  up  through  his  spectacles,  as  Tom  seized 
his  hand  and  wrung  it. 

"  Ah !  you've  heard  all  about  it,  sir,  I  see,"  said 
he. 

Tom  nodded,  and  then  sat  down  on  the  shoe-board, 
while  the  old  man  told  his  tale,  and  wiped  his  specta- 
cles, and  fairly  flowed  over  with  quaint,  homely,  honest 
sorrow. 

By  the  time  he  had  done,  Tom  felt  much  better. 

"  Where  is  he  buried,  Thomas?  "  said  he  at  last. 

"Under  the  altar  in  the  chapel,  sir,"  answered 
Thomas.  "  You'd  like  to  have  the  key,  I  dare  say." 

"  Thank  you,  Thomas.  Yes,  I  should  very  much." 
And  the  old  man  fumbled  among  his  bunch,  and  then 
got  up,  as  though  he  would  go  with  him  ;  but  after  a 
few  steps  stopped  short,  and  said,  "  Perhaps  you'd  like 
to  go  by  yourself,  sir  ? " 

Tom  nodded,  and  the  bunch  of  keys  was  handed 
to  hira?  with  an  injunction  to  be  sure  and  lock  the 


354  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

door  after  him,  and  bring  them  back  before  eight 
o'clock. 

He  walked  quickly  through  the  quadrangle  and  out 
into  the  close.  The  longing  which  had  been  upon  him 
and  driven  him  thus  far,  like  the  gad-fly  in  the  Greek 
legends,  giving  him  no  rest  in  mind  or  body,  seemed  all 
of  a  sudden  not  to  be  satisfied,  but  to  shrivel  up,  and 
pall.  "  Why  should  I  go  on  ?  It's  no  use,"  he 
thought,  and  threw  himself  at  full  length  on  the  turf, 
and  looked  vaguely  and  listlessly  at  all  the  well-known 
objects.  There  were  a  few  of  the  town  boys  playing 
cricket,  their  wicket  pitched  on  the  best  piece  in  the 
middle  of  the  big-side  ground,  a  sin  about  equal  to 
sacrilege  in  the  eyes  of  a  captain  of  the  eleven.  He 
was  very  nearly  getting  up  to  go  and  send  them  off. 
"  Pshaw  !  they  won't  remember  me.  They've  more 
right  there  than  I,"  he  muttered.  And  the  thought 
that  his  scepter  had  departed,  and  his  mark  was  wear- 
ing out,  came  home  to  him  for  the  first  time,  and  bit- 
terly enough.  He  was  lying  on  the  very  spot  where 
the  fights  came  off;  where  he  himself  had  fought  six 
years  ago  his  first  and  last  battle.  He  conjured  up 
the  scene  till  he  could  almost  hear  the  shouts  of  the 
ring,  and  East's  whisper  in  his  ear  ;  and  looking  across 
the  close  to  the  doctor's  private  door,  half  expected  to 
see  it  open,  and  the  tall  figure  in  cap  and  gown  come 
striding  under  the  elm-trees  toward  him. 

No,  no!  that  sight  could  never  be  seen  again. 
There  was  no  flag  flying  on  the  round  tower!  the 
school-house  windows  were  all  shuttered  up :  and  when 
the  flag  went  up  again,  and  the  shutters  came  down, 
it  would  be  to  welcome  a  stranger.  All  that  was  left 
on  earth  of  him  whom  he  had  honored,  was  lying  cold 
and  still  under  the  chapel  floor.  He  would  go  in 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  355 

and  see  the  place  once  more,  and  then  leave  it  once 
for  all.  New  men  and  new  methods  might  do  for 
other  people;  let  those  who  would,  worship  the  ris- 
ing star ;  he,  at  least,  would  be  faithful  to  the  sun 
which  had  set.  And  so  he  got  up  and  walked  to  the 
chapel  door  and  unlocked  it,  fancying  himself  the  only 
mourner  in  all  the  broad  land,  and  feeding  on  his  own 
selfish  sorrow. 

He  passed  through  the  vestibule,  and  then  paused 
for  a  moment  to  glance  over  the  empty  benches.  His 
heart  was  still  proud  and  high,  and  he  walked  up  to 
the  seat  which  he  had  last  occupied  as  a  sixth-form 
boy,  and  sat  himself  down  there  to  collect  his 
thoughts. 

And,  truth  to  tell,  they  needed  collecting  and  setting 
in  order  not  a  little.  The  memories  of  eight  years 
were  all  dancing  through  his  brain,  and  carrying  him 
about  whither  they  would ;  while  beneath  them  all,  his 
heart  was  throbbing  with  the  dull  sense  of  a  loss  that 
could  never  be  made  up  to  him.  The  rays  of  the  even- 
ing sun  came  solemnly  through  the  painted  windows 
above  his  head,  and  fell  in  gorgeous  colors  on  the  op- 
posite wall,  and  the  perfect  stillness  soothed  his  spirit 
by  little  and  little.  And  he  turned  to  the  pulpit,  and 
looked  at  it,  and  then,  leaning  forward  with  his  head 
on  his  bands,  groaned  aloud.  "  If  he  could  only  have 
seen  the  doctor  again  for  one  five  minutes ;  have  told 
him  all  that  was  in  his  heart,  what  he  owed  to  him, 
how  he  loved  and  reverenced  him,  and  would  by  God's 
help  follow  his  steps  in  life  and  death,  he  could  have 
borne  it  all  without  a  murmur.  But  that  he  should 
have  gone  away  forever  without  knowing  it  all,  was 
too  much  to  bear.  But  am  I  sure  that  he  does  not 
know  it  all?"— the  thought  made  him  start— "may  he 


356  TOM  BROAVN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

not  even  now  be  near  me,  in  this  very  chapel  ?  If  he 
be,  am  I  sorrowing  as  he  would  have  me  sorrow — as  I 
should  wish  to  have  sorrowed  when  I  shall  meet  him 
again  ? " 

He  raised  himself  up  and  looked  round ;  and  after 
a  minute  rose  and  walked  humbly  down  to  the  lowest 
bench,  and  sat  down  on  the  very  seat  which  he  had  oc- 
cupied on  his  first  Sunday  at  Rugby.  And  then  the 
old  memories  rushed  back  again,  but  softened  and  sub- 
dued, and  soothing  him  as  he  let  himself  be  carried 
away  by  them.  And  he  looked  up  at  the  great  painted 
window  above  the  altar,  and  remembered  how  when  a 
little  boy  he  used  to  try  not  to  look  through  it  at  the 
elm-trees  and  the  rooks,  before  the  painted  glass  came 
— and  the  subscription  for  the  painted  glass,  and  the 
letter  he  wrote  home  for  money  to  give  to  it.  And 
there,  down  below,  was  the  very  name  of  the  boy  who 
sat  on  his  right  hand  on  that  first  day,  scratched  rudely 
in  the  oak  paneling. 

And  then  came  the  thought  of  all  his  old  school- 
fellows ;  and  form  after  form  of  boys,  nobler,  and 
braver,  and  purer  than  he,  rose  up  and  seemed  to 
rebuke  him.  Could  he  not  think  of  them,  and  what 
they  had  felt  and  were  feeling,  they  who  had  honored 
and  loved  from  the  first,  the  man  whom  he  had  taken 
years  to  know  and  love  ?  Could  he  not  think  of  those 
yet  dearer  to  him  who  was  gone,  who  bore  his  name 
and  shared  his  blood,  and  were  now  without  a  husband 
or  a  father?  Then  the  grief  which  he  began  to  share 
with  others  became  gentle  and  holy,  and  he  rose  up 
once  more,  and  walked  up  the  steps  to  the  altar ;  and 
while  the  tears  flowed  freely  down  his  cheeks,  knelt 
down  humbly  and  hopefully,  to  lay  down  there  his 
share  of  a  burden  which  had  proved  itself  too  heavy 
for  him  to  bear  in  his  own  strength. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  35? 

Here  let  us  leave  him — where  better  could  we  leave 
him,  than  at  the  altar,  before  which  he  had  first  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  glory  of  his  birthright,  and  felt  the 
drawing  of  the  bond  which  links  all  living  souls  to- 
gether in  one  brotherhood — at  the  grave  beneath  the 
altar  of  him,  who  had  opened  his  eyes  to  see  that 
glory,  and  softened  his  heart  till  it  could  feel  that 
bond? 

And  let  us  not  be  hard  on  him,  if  at  that  moment 
his  soul  is  fuller  of  the  tomb  and  him  who  lies  there, 
than  of  the  altar  and  Him  of  whom  it  speaks.  Such 
stages  have  to  be  gone  through,  I  believe,  by  all  young 
and  brave  souls,  who  must  win  their  way  through 
hero-worship,  to  the  worship  of  Him  who  is  the  King 
and  Lord  of  heroes.  For  it  is  only  through  our  mys- 
terious human  relationships,  through  the  love  and 
tenderness  and  purity  of  mothers,  and  sisters,  and 
wives,  through  the  strength  and  courage  and  wisdom 
of  fathers,  and  brothers,  and  teachers,  that  we  can 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  Him,  in  whom  alone  the 
love,  and  the  tenderness,  and  the  purity,  and  the 
strength,  and  the  courage,  and  the  wisdom  of  all  these 
dwell  forever  and  ever  in  perfect  fullness. 


THE   END. 


UfiMUf 


